


Beyond My Control

by Shinigami_Mistress (Southern_Breeze)



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Angst, Attempted Rape, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Lust, Mpreg, Possession, Rage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-12
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:53:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 32
Words: 114,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5700739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Southern_Breeze/pseuds/Shinigami_Mistress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William held on to control tightly, but one day it was ripped completely away. He has no idea what to do or even if he should try to save himself...especially with some of the things that he will be led to do.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Andantino](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andantino/gifts).



Chapter 1:

Dispatch was never silent. The clacking of typewriters, the sounds of heavy footfalls on the well-polished floors, and the distant murmur of soft conversations constantly played over the rhythm of the never ceasing clock. It was like the music of their existence, but it gave William a mild headache as he walked to his office. Even in the sanctity of his own working space, he couldn’t drown out all the noise, and he pulled down his glasses slightly to rub his temples. Although still mild, he worried this headache was only the precursor for the storm of a migraine that was rumbling on the horizon. After a minute, he walked over to his desk. Like the rest of his office, it was precise and neat. Papers were all arranged in specific files in one of two trays, so the shiny surface was bare and pristine.

All except for the single envelope that stared up at him like an accusation. 

His movements were slow and exact as he walked around to sit behind the desk and retrieve a silver letter opener. He was in no hurry because he already knew the contents. A young reaper by the name of Benjamin Miller had recently deserted.

It was an unfortunately common occurrence. Once realizing that they could easily walk away from their own punishment, many reapers choose to give up on redemption in a vain attempt to return to the living world. Benjamin had done just that as his glasses had been found setting in his apartment, although it was difficult to determine precisely when he left. To make the situation worse was that one of Benjamin’s assigned souls had been claimed by a random demon.

William sighed as he read the letter. It was exactly as he expected, and he would have to appear before a supervisory board in the morning to fully explain the situation. While Benjamin had deserted during his free time, William was still held responsible. He had no idea how he was supposed to keep an eye on all of his subordinates during all hours, but that was simply part of his job description.

The migraine fully blossomed and raged behind his eyes.

Laying the envelope aside, William retrieved the current assignments. As usual, there were plenty of workers out on collections as there was never a shortage of deaths. His yellow, green eyes scanned through the lists as if their names could point to any potential problems, but he paused on one very familiar name.

Grell had come very close to deserting in the past; too close for William’s preference. While she had never abandoned her glasses, she had chosen to wear a pair made by human hands for a time. She had kept her with her assignments, but she had spent her free time with that woman. In fact, William had always thought that the disciplinary board had actually gone easy on her with her punishment simply because they were relieved she hadn’t deserted.

While she had given him no reason to fear she was even considering deserting, William still stared at her name as fear begin to nibble at the back of his mind. She was close to the area where the demon had claimed the soul left by Benjamin, but he still had no reason to imagine Grell was in any danger. In fact, she was probably the stronger agent currently in the field, but he still couldn’t deny that fear. It was entirely irrational, which conflicted greatly with his usual rational mind, but the worry remained. It wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Honestly,” he mumbled to himself as he stood up and gathered his scythe. It wasn’t outside the realm of his position to check on workers in the field, and he knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get any work done while he was so distracted. He would check on Grell and then return immediately. 

If he was lucky, he might even be able to avoid unnecessary overtime.

((x))

It was actually a rather pleasant evening as Grell at on the ridgetop of the house. She was kicking her feet slightly, humming a happy tune, and watched as the setting sun painting the world in those fabulous shades of red that she loved so much. While she enjoyed collecting souls, there were times that the weather and ambiance just didn’t play along. It was hard to see the beauty of her fabulous art when in a dark, dank alleyway cloaked by shadows. She hummed contently, as she allowed her eyes to drift from the setting sun to the man working on a struggling garden on a small plot below. He wasn’t a young man, about 70 years old according to her list, and he really should have left this outdoor work to someone younger and more in shape. Of course, if he had, she might not have any reason to be here as he might not be scheduled to have a heart attack. It wasn’t a more gruesome death, which was the only drawback, but she any opportunity to wield her whirling, growling chainsaw was good.

As expected, the man suddenly grabbed his chest and fell onto the young, green plants he had been carefully placing in the soil; killing them with his dying body. He clawed at his chest as if trying to reach inside to take hold of his incorporative heart as his free hand reached towards the heavens. The sky above was only beginning to darken and the first few stars were just starting to wink. Perhaps he was desperately making a wish to live, but that was one wish that wasn’t to be granted.

“It’s time for the star to make her deadly appearance,” Grell announced as she jumped to her feet and leapt nimbly into the air. She made sure that the man saw her beautiful, scarlet image just before the light began to fade from his eyes. He deserved a chance to see his glorious reaper just before the end.

Her sharp tooth friend roared to life as she plunged it into his chest and his records went spiraling into the night sky. She hated this obligatory part of the job, but she did hold out some hope that this man had been the wild sort in his youth. Those were the kind of memories she enjoyed looking at the man.

Sadly, it appeared this man had been rather dull, and Grell didn’t bother to repress her yawn. He barely even took the time to sow his wild oats, as she had heard it referred, before getting married and starting a family. He barely even drank, but she had to watch as boring memory after boring memory came spilling out. Finally, she saw him working in the garden, and she was thrilled that he had a recorded memory of her leaping towards him as one of the final frames. While she wouldn’t go so far as corrupt memories, she did like to implant her own image on as many as she could.

With that out of the way, she carefully separated the records from the soul, and stamped the man’s file. He was her last collection of the night, so now she was free to go home and perhaps soak in a nice hot bath. Her tired muscles practically sang at the idea, but then she felt a particular presence nearby. 

“Will!” she cried, turning around, “Have you come for a secret rendezvous with me, darling?”

The stoic reaper adjusted his glasses as he stared down at her from his nearby place on top of a stone wall. “I am just making sure that everything is going according to proper procedure,” he announced, “Do you have anything to report?”

She smiled brightly. “Nothing,” she replied, “in fact, I’m just finished. Care to escort a lady back to the office?” She batted her eyelashes, although she didn’t really think he would take her up on the offer.

Before he could respond, a sudden stench filled the area. Grell had no idea how the demon had managed to hide his scent before, but a dark figure came out of nowhere and slammed into William. She heard him grunt softly as he fell heavily, and her already passionate blood began to boil. A dark, malevolent smile was painted on her face as she launched herself to the creature that seemed to swirl and twist as if it was made of smoke. It had no time to react as she sliced it cleanly in half, and black, putrid blood spewed forth to stain the ground. She heard it cry out briefly, but it began to dissolve before it even hit the ground. A noxious gas bellowed out, and then it was gone. If not for its spilled blood, it was as if it hadn’t even been there. She didn’t consider it much as she ran over to William who was still lying upon some fallen stones.

“Will, are you okay?” she asked, as she smoothed back the hair that had gotten mussed in his fall. In all honesty, she actually preferred his hair hanging across his forehead the way it had in the academy, but she knew he liked to keep it neat. Although he had taken quite a hit, she was concerned that he hadn’t awoke yet, and she was just about to create a portal to take him straight to the infirmary, when his eyes open rather suddenly.

“Are you okay?” she asked again, still hovering nearby.

He blinked several times as he looked her direction as he straightened his glasses. “I am unharmed,” he said. He stood up and knocked the dust from his clothes. While he wasn’t as into fashion and appearance as Grell, he still hated getting a perfectly good suit dirty for no reason. “Was that a demon?”

Grell nodded. “I have no idea how it hid like that,” she said, “but it was no match for me.” She frowned slightly when she noticed William rubbing his head. “Are you sure you okay?” She reached out to touch his shoulder.

He jerked away. “I said that I am fine, and do not touch me inappropriately, Sutcliff.”

She giggled very softly. “Will, no one’s around now,” she said, “You don’t have to act.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” he replied, “Make sure you include the demon attack in your report.” With those few words, he created a portal and disappeared from her sight.

Standing there, she was left to stare at the spot where he had most recently stood as the feeling of being truly and utterly alone crashed down upon her. She suddenly wished she had a thousand demons to fight and to burn up all this restless energy and unused passion that burned within her, but she didn’t even know if that would be enough.

((x))

William staggered into his apartment and almost fell into the floor as he grabbed hold of the doorframe. It felt like everything was sliding sideways, and he was helpless to do anything but to hold on. His stomach lurched and convulsed painfully, but everything slowly subsided after a few minutes. Finally, he shut the door as he walked inside.

He knew that he would most likely be in trouble for not going straight back to work, especially considering his meeting scheduled for the following morning, but he couldn’t go back just yet. His migraine had exploded and each of the tiny fragments had exploded again and again until he couldn’t see, hear, or even think correctly. Wherever that demon must had struck him must have been the worst place, and he moaned softly as he grabbed his aching head. Memories began swirling and twisting within his mind, and he recognized an oncoming attack as he stumbled to the bathroom.

Ever since his encounter with Thomas Wallis and his memories, William had to deal with a whole set of conflicting memories that were not his own. At first, it had only been minor, but it had gotten worse over the years until he had attacks that would leave him completely unable to tell his reality from the other man’s past. It was particularly disconcerting to look in the mirror and suddenly feel as if that wasn’t his face or features staring back at him. The behavior specialist had prescribed him a particular strong pill that helped suppress the memories, although the medicine did cause him to sleep.

With shaky hands, he grabbed the bottle and managed to undo the lit. He wasn’t sure how he didn’t spill all the contents as he managed to retrieve a single pill and place it on his tongue and swallowing it dry. It left a bitter trail along his tongue and down his throat, but he felt better almost immediately. He knew it was only the thought of the medicine had helped him and not the medicine itself as he had just taken it, but he couldn’t deny the relief.

Struggling to walk straight, he went into his bedroom and immediately grabbed the phone beside his bed to dial a number he had long since memorized. After two rings, a professional sounding woman answered. “Dispatch Association. How may I direct your call?”

“Ms. Fletcher,” William said, hoping his voice didn’t sound as shaky to her as it did to him, “I won’t be in for the rest of the day. Please put any necessary paperwork on my desk.”

“Of course Mr. Spears,” Ms. Fletcher said, “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. That will be all. Thank you, Ms. Fletcher.” William hung up without giving the woman a chance to reply.

Without bothering to change out of his clothes, he collapsed on the bed as he felt the sweet release of sleep slowly pull him under. As he succumbed, he couldn’t help but think of Grell and what she had said to him. What had she meant by there’s no one around and that he could drop the act? He wasn’t acting. Unlike her, he didn’t know how to act, but she had seemed different. She had spoken softer and was less flirtatious than usual.

Could she had been the one to drop the act?

((x))

Grell stomped in the office, her saw still covered in demon blood, and she saw the other workers practically scrambling for cover. The realization brought a bitter smile to her face as she walked to the small office she shared with Ronald. Most workers, even senior field agents like herself, only had small cubicles or desk, but it seemed that the majority didn’t like working with her. Although she was given an office so that she would be somewhat isolated, it actually had worked out to her advantage. She didn’t have to deal with everyone else, and she had a space she could decorate in her own original style.

Slamming the door, she walked over and fell into her seat. It was a small area, mostly because it was dominated by a large, oak desk and masking bookshelf that contained various trinkets and pictures, but it was hers. Still annoyed, she grabbed a makeup mirror from a desk drawer and saw that several blotches of the demon’s blood had splattered on to her face like misshapen freckles, and she grabbed some tissues to clean her face, cursing softly over the fact she would have to redo her makeup. Just as she finished, Ronald walked into the room.

“Hey, senior!” he greeted, as he shut the door behind him. “Rough day?”

She sighed dramatically as she carefully reapplied her makeup. “Nothing much,” she replied, “Collected some souls. Talked to William. Killed a demon.”

The younger reaper’s eyes grew big. “A demon? What happened?”

“William came to check on me, because you know how he can’t resist me being away from him for long,” she began, “and this demon just suddenly appeared and bashed my beloved on the head. Of course, no lady can stand to see her prince fall, so I took care of the creature. It was such a low level brute too. It practically disintegrated with one swipe of my scythe.”

Ronald frowned briefly. “I’ve never heard of a demon like that,” he said.

“It was strange,” she agreed, as she put away the paperwork, “And now my darling prince has chained me down with paperwork just because that brute interfered. At least it shouldn’t take too long. What about you? Do you have anything to catch up on?”

Ronald shook his head and his usual grin reemerged. “Good thing too,” he said, “I have a date.”

“You always have a date. Who with this time?”

“Emily.”

Grell set aside her paperwork and smiled. “Emily,” she repeated, “Having you been dating her a month now? Is she perhaps special to you?”

A blush appeared on the blonde’s cheeks. “Maybe,” he said mysteriously.

“Well, I need to talk to her,” Grell began, “to make sure she’s good enough for my little Ronnie.”

“Emily's a bit shy until you get to know her,” Ronald explained, “but I'll introduce you.” 

“I’ll make sure you do that,” Grell said, “Now I have to get done with this paperwork. This is not a job for a lady, but my dear William insists.” With another dramatic sighed, she gathered the right forms and began to document the encounter. She hated how repetitious the questions were, but this was just one of those things that had to be done.

It was close to the end of her shift when she finished. Ronald had already slipped out, although she hadn’t paid attention to when precisely, but Grell walked rather calmly down to William’s office. To her amazement, the door was locked.

“Oh, Miss Sutcliff,” Ms. Fletcher called from her nearby desk, “Mr. Spears has already left for the day. Just leave your paperwork here with me.”

Grell walked over and laid her documents on Ms. Fletcher’s crowded desk. “William’s not here? When did he leave?”

Ms. Fletcher appeared to think. “He left some time before lunch,” she answered, “and then he called in later. I don’t think he was feeling well.”

Grell nodded distractedly as she thought over the matter. Perhaps William had been hurt more than she had realized by the demon’s blow, and she couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. She only wished she had insisted on Will going to the infirmary, but maybe she could do something to help him feel better.

With a plan in mind, she clocked out and hurried down the steps. Hopefully, William was in his apartment.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

The hallway was long and twisted so that it was impossible to see where you were going or where you had been. William walked steadily down the hall, making his way to a destination that he even was unsure of at the moment, but he kept his eyes glued steadily on the path ahead. Along the walls were doors, most of which were crooked or warped, but he didn’t even pause to see if any were unlocked or to see why lay on the other side of the door. While it wasn’t something he would have typically admitted to himself, he was afraid. He felt as if there was something lurking behind the doors just waiting to swallow him up like some sort of monster from a children’s story. There was some unnamed darkness in every corner and it was trying to consume him.

The thought made him walk faster.

Finally, he saw the door to his office, and he felt himself relax. This was his space and his sanctuary. Here, he should be safe. Quickly, he reached for the doorknob, but there was no sensation of cool metal beneath his fingers. He frowned as he looked down, and suddenly a realization bloomed in his mind like a black flower in the middle of a desert.

This was a dream.

William knew he had heard of knowing you were dreaming before, although this was the first time he had experienced it firsthand, and had even been told that he should be able to control the dream. He had no such desires, however, as he simply wished to awaken.

“Wake up,” he said to himself, and was shocked to find his voice only came out as a hoarse whisper. Seeing that he was still trapped in his dream, he carefully twisted the doorknob and the door began to loudly creak as it opened. Even in an uncertain dream, he felt his office offered at least some safety.

The darkness, that unnamable evil, was approaching now and he could feel the echo of its footsteps down the crooked hallway. William tried to calm down and focus on simply escaping from this nightmare. “Wake up. Wake up,” he said again and again. He finally managed to open the door, but he found that it wasn’t his office. The room before him was bathed in the ultimate blackness except for a single panel of light. He realized that this panel of light was actually a mirror, and William could see his own form reflected in it, except one thing was altered. His reflection had no face. There was only an empty void where his face should have been.

“What’s the matter, Will?” a voice that was all too close hissed.

William screamed uncharacteristically as he spun around and slammed his fist in the direction of the voice. To his surprise, it made contact and he heard a cry of surprise as something fell backwards. He breathed heavily and watched in amazement as the twisted hallway melted into his bedroom, and he was sitting up in his own bed. The vestiges of the dream were still fading as he looked down onto to see a rather confused redhead sitting on his floor. Her glasses were askew and she was rubbing her cheek which was turning an ugly shade of purple from where his fist had struck. Scattered on the floor around her were pieces of a bowl and glass. It had appeared she was about to serve him food.

“Sutcliff,” William managed, his voice thick and hoarse, “What are you doing here?”

She straightened her glasses before rising to her knees. “I was worried,” she said, pouting slightly, “You left work early, and you never do that.” Sighing softly, she looked at the mess around her and bent over to gather the broken pieces.

William watched her for a moment and noticed that she wasn’t wearing her red coat. She had probably taken it off while cooking, but he found his eyes drawn to her rear accentuated by her tight pants. She wasn’t trying to be seductive, but the gentle motions she made while cleaning the floor was certainly alluring. This wasn’t particularly confusing to William as she was attractive, but the strength of the feeling was frightening. With something like a roar, he jumped out of bed, grabbed Grell’s arm, and jerked her to her feet. “What business do you have here?” he roared.

She blinked a few times in obvious surprise. “I told you,” she replied, “I was worried.” She tried to jerk her arm away, but he dug his fingers into her skin.

The smell of her so close to him, a few strands of her hair brushing against his hand, and even her struggling only caused his lust to rise. “No,” he growled, “How did you get in here? Did you break in? I should file a complaint.”

“You left the door unlocked!” she yelled, this time managing to pull away, “I knocked on the door and it swung open. What is wrong with you? Why are you acting like this?”

William felt guilty since Grell hadn’t done anything wrong beyond entering his apartment without being invited, but other feelings were overwhelming him. Like a perverted cinematic record, he kept seeing himself ripping Grell’s clothes and forcing himself on her. Grell probably wouldn’t even argue, but he was horrified to realize that it didn’t even matter to him.

He spun her around and shoved her roughly towards the door. “Get out!” he yelled, “Just get out of here!”

“Fine,” she snorted, as she grabbed the doorknob and jerked open the door, “You really should know how to treat a lady.”

“I know how to treat a lady,” he said, walking up to her so that he was glaring down into her face, “but you’re no lady. Not even close.” He heard her sharp intake of breath, but he didn’t give her a chance to respond before shoving her out of the door and slamming it behind her. The sound of the lock clicking into place was similar to that of his heart as it sunk. He knew his words had hurt her, but he had to push her away. There was something wrong with him, and he couldn’t trust himself.

((x))

The Shinigami realm had been designed to look clean and pure. Caught both physically and spiritually between Heaven and earth, it was supposed to look pristine as if it was beyond the darkness and sins that plagued the human world, but it wasn’t only a thinly veiled illusion. Beneath the white blocked buildings and smooth, curved streets, the same darkness still lurked, crept and grew. It wasn’t even hard to find, although many purposely blinded themselves to its presence.

Grell was too honest with her own emotions to pretend it wasn’t there. Instead, she let it work for her when it was convenient, and now she was in the desperate need to work off this angry energy that flow and pulsed through her veins. She had only been trying to be nice to William, but he had been so cruel. In one sense, she was used to his cold behavior since it was their pattern – the heart of their relationship, but William had acted differently than usual. He had been mean with no real reason and had made sure to hurt her in the worst way possible. Her anger rose as she replayed the scene in her head, and her the sound of her heels echoed loudly as she walked through the library. No one even glanced her way as she stomped past and shoved her way through a narrow door that was encased in the shadows.

The steps leading down towards the basement were narrow and steep, but she practically ran down until she reached the bottom. There were makeshift shops, pubs, and other sorts of businesses that were frowned up on their realm, although none were technically illegal. It just had to be hidden from the bright, faux sun of the masses. A few milled about, but Grell knew precisely where she needed to go and she walked over to a small counter and slapped her palm down sharply.

After a minute, a man walked to the counter with a bitter smile on his wrinkled face. In the bright lights of dispatch, he worked tirelessly on glasses for all of the agents, but here in the shadows Lawrence Anderson held a slightly different office. “I expected to see you sooner or later,” he said.

She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries. “What do you have on this newest deserter?” she demanded.

Anderson nodded as he reached beneath the counter and produced a thin file. “There’s not a lot,” he said, “but young Benjamin did manage to keep his scythe since he was supposed to have been out on assignment.

“Perfect,” she said as she took the file.

Anderson leaned forward. “You’re awfully happy for someone who almost had a bounty on their head at one time,” he said.

Grell laughed slightly. “Almost is the key word, darling,” she replied, “I never fully deserted, and, besides, this is my deal. I bring in the deserters.”

“And no extra time is added to your sentence,” Anderson said.

She smiled sharply. “Oh, I don’t worry about foolish things like time and sentences,” she insisted, “This job just suits me so well.” The smile didn’t slip as turned and walked away, but she could feel her hands shake with repressed emotions. “And a good bloodbath is precisely what I need right now.”

((x))

William stood before the council, but he felt his anger rising with each passing second. He had been in this room more than a few times, and it was never easy or comfortable. No seat was provided, which forced you to stand uncomfortably in the center of the room. The only light was overly bright and fixed so that it would shine directly on whoever it was before the council. This left the members hiding in the faceless shadows where only their voices could cross over into the light.

“Mr. Spears,” announced one of the men, “We’ve called you here concerning this matter with the deserter, Benjamin Miller.”

“Yes, sir,” William said, as he fought the urge to rub his temples. His headache was growing worse with each passing minute. He just wanted to be out of this room and away from all these staring eyes. He hadn’t believe able to sleep because every time he closed his eyes he only saw the same nightmare each time – except the darkness kept getting closer.

“Agent Miller deserted while on your watch,” stated another voice, “What do you have to say about that?”

William shook his head. “Nothing,” he mumbled. He felt as if his head was going to explode. There was a growing ringing in his ears that almost sounded as there was a hive of angry bees trapped within his head.

“Nothing!” a voice shouted painfully, “Surely you have something to say. You have failed! This is not the first time, either.”

“I don’t see how you can blame me,” William replied. He knew he should keep his mouth shut, but it was hard for him to care with this headache. He was just tired of being treated unfairly, and he was tired of this mockery.

“What was that?” someone demanded, “Mr. Spears, you should rethink that statement.”

“There’s no need of it,” grumbled William, as he turned and started walking towards the door.

“Mr. Spears, return to your spot immediately!”

“No,” he said, and his hand was already upon the door.

“You will be suspended indefinitely if you leave this room without permission!”

“Suspend me then,” William said and left the room. His headache had increased indefinitely so that the walls around him began to twist and turn. It was almost like his nightmare, and he could just feel the darkness starting to loom again. Staggering as if drunk, he blindly made his way to the front entrance.

He had to get out of here, but he wasn’t planning on returning home just yet.


	3. Chapter 3

Grell walked down the hallway; her typical smile plastered on her face as she strolled along. Her greetings of good morning were casual, and most of the other morning workers barely glanced at her. Aside from the absence of her beloved red coat, there was no sign that anything was wrong in the least.

She was, after all, a very good actress.

Inside, her mind was racing and her thoughts were more chaotic than usual. Since leaving William’s place the night earlier, she hadn’t stopped thinking about the way he had acted. There had been many times in the past when there had been misunderstandings and disagreements. After Campania had sank, William had spoken to her harshly about her failings before he had learned of that deserter’s involvement. It was the next day before he had apologized, but he had admitted he had jumped to conclusions. That had been enough for her.

What had happened yesterday, however, was different. She hadn’t done anything wrong, yet William had still angrily thrown her out even after realizing this fact. She hadn’t even been able to gather her red coat, which she had left hanging on a chair in the kitchen. William had seem so unusually enraged at her very presence, and the old fear that she was only deluding herself about his ability to ever love her gnawed at her mind. Pushing all those fears aside, she smiled brightly as she approached his door and knocked boldly. After receiving no response from within, her smile slipped ever so slightly as she raised her hand to knock once more.

“Mr. Spears isn’t in,” Ms. Fletcher announced from her nearby desk, “He had a meeting this morning with Upper Management, but he hasn’t returned.”

Grell turned towards her, careful to keep her face neutral. “He hasn’t returned?” she repeated in a questioning tone. “That’s not like him. Will you let me know when Will’s back in his office?”

Ms. Fletcher smiled slightly and nodded. “I will send word when Mr. Spears comes in,” she said in her usual, polite tone.

Grell returned the smile, but she felt even colder on the inside as she turned and walked to her own small office. Closing the door, she slumped against as she tried to order her thoughts. There was a chance that Will’s meeting just ran a bit longer than usual, so there was no real reason to worry. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to her desk and frowned at the stacks of paperwork waiting for her. Although this was the part of the job that she hated the most, she decided that she would actually put forth extra effort to complete it all. That would hopefully make William happy. With a look of determination, she attacked the paperwork and began to work diligently.

She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she heard a soft knock on her door. “Yes?” she asked, hoping it was Ms. Fletcher with news of William or even William himself. She was disappointed and surprised to see if was only Ronald. He never knocked as he shared this office, but then Grell noticed the young, smiling brunette by his side. Grell thought she had seen her down in accounting before, although they had never spoken.

“Senior,” Ronald began, “This is Emily. I thought it was time for you to meet.”

“Hello,” Emily said in a slightly shy tone, “It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Grell was tempted to tease the girl a bit since she knew her unfairly tarnished reputation was widespread, but she decided to hold back for Ronald’s sake. “Nice to meet you as well,” Grell replied, as she stood and walked over to the pair, “especially as seeing how you’ve captured the heart of a certain young reaper.”

Emily laughed and blushed a deeper shade of red. She really didn’t appear to be the kind of girl that Ronald pursued. She was pretty, although Grell would hesitate to call her beautiful, and she wasn’t flashy or forward. Perhaps this difference was part of what had captured Ronald’s eye in the first place, but the way he was looking at her now made one thing very clear.

He was in love.

Emily tugged at Ronald’s arm gently. “I have to get back,” she said, “My break’s almost over.”

Ronald gave her a mock pout. “Already?” he asked.

“I’m afraid so,” she replied, “Our supervisor is really strict about being late.” Smiling shyly, she turned towards Grell. “It was nice meeting you,” she repeated.

“Same,” Grell returned.

Ronald gently kissed her on the lips. “See you after work,” he said, “I have a lot planned for us tonight.”

Emily laughed softly. “I’m looking forward to it,” she stated, before pulling away and hurrying down the hall. Ronald watched her go until she was out of sight; the smile never slipping from his face. Finally he shut the door and both walked to their respective desks, but Ronald’s mind was still obviously far from his work. Grell almost laughed aloud when he sighed loudly.

“She seems nice,” Grell offered.

“She’s perfect!” Ronald exclaimed, “I’ve never dated anyone like her before. She’s sweet and considerate and just everything. You know?”

“So what are your plans for tonight?” asked Grell.

Ronald’s smile grew. “I have reservations at a great restaurant,” he answered, “It’s going to cost me nearly a month’s salary, but it will be worth it. Afterwards, I thought we’d just go for a walk under the stars or something.”

“Sounds romantic,” Grell replied, “and a little unlike you. I figured you were planning a romp in the bedroom.”

“Normally I would,” Ronald agreed, “but it’s a bit different with Emily. I don’t how to explain it. I guess things aren’t the same when you really care for someone.”

With a happy hum, he got started on his paperwork without glancing Grell’s way. Had he done so, he might have seen the crestfallen look on her face. After all, she knew exactly what it was like when you cared for someone.

Glancing up at the clock, she clicked her tongue in disapproval. William should have returned to the office a long time ago. She only hoped that everything was okay.

((x))

William had never been much of a drinker. He would occasionally drink with dinner or when he was forced to socialize, but it had never held much interest for him. The idea of being drunk or even tipsy simply didn’t appeal to him - at least it didn’t usually.

Sitting quietly in the back of a noisy pub, all William wanted to do was to get drunk. He wanted to drown all the questions swirling about in his head, and the worry about how badly he would be punished for his stunt with Upper Management this morning, but more than anything, he wanted to wash away the horrible mental images that now seem to skulk constantly within his mind. He could just see himself ripping through this crowd, killing all the foolish humans, and laughing as he splashed about in their blood. The thought made him choke back another glass. There was something seriously wrong with him, and he knew that he should turn himself in to the proper authorities. He could be institutionalized until the cause for these horrible thoughts could be found and treated, but he hesitated. He had seen others go to the institute only to return as little more than shells. While his own madness frightened him, the prospect of being mentally destroyed was also frightening.

There was a woman standing near the bar that caught his eye, and he knew before he even nodded to her that she was a prostitute. He typically barely paid attention to these women, and he wasn’t the type to draw them his way, but this woman was different.

Her hair was red.

She smiled at him when he nodded and slowly began to weave his way. Her walk was exaggerated and designed only to draw attention, but no one else seemed to notice her as she sauntered up to William’s table. “Hello, sir,” she purred, “Looking for some company?”

William’s heart sank as he examined her up close. He had no idea how old she was, but it was obvious that she hadn’t aged well. Thick makeup clung to the sagging flesh of her face, catching in the creases about her overly red lips. Her muddy brown eyes were dull and listless as she batted fake eyelashes at him and ran her tongue over her gently rotting teeth. The vivid hair, which had caught his eye before, was nothing more than an ill-fitting wig, and he could see graying strands peeking out around the edges.

He knew he should just walk away and leave the poor woman to his own devices, but a voice that barely even sounded like his own suddenly spoke. “That’s precisely what I’m looking for.”

She nodded as she smiled wider. “Going to buy me something to drink first?” she ventured to ask.

“No,” he said curtly, as he stood up and took her arm.

She didn’t seemed surprised by her treatment, and silently walked along with him. Once there were outside, she pointed down the street. “My flat’s that way,” she offered, “No one should be there now.”

He recognized that saying no one should be there meant that she shared it with other women like herself, but he only nodded as he let go of her arm so that she could lead the way. Falling into step behind her, he focused her eyes on her (fake) red hair. It wasn’t as long as Grell’s, but watching it move with the woman’s steps reminded him of the last time he had seen Grell; kneeling on the floor cleaning up the broken bowl. The way her hips had moved and flexed while she was on her knees claimed his senses, and he could feel himself growing hard in his slacks. Soon, he would have his release.

The woman led him down an alleyway to a small place that seemed to be little more than an afterthought jammed between other buildings. Other women, all with the same tired, haggard eyes, were gathered outside, but they stepped out of the way to allow them inside.

There was no ceremony to their actions. After closing the door, the woman disrobed as she moved towards a dirty bed that had seen far too many people in its time. She started to remove the wig, but William stopped her.

“Leave it on,” he insisted as he undressed.

She nodded quietly as she took her place on the bed. She had probably heard weirder requests in her time, but William no longer cared as he stripped and moved to lay on top of her.

Her skin was soft and pliant, and William almost winced at the feel of it beneath his hands as he slid inside. “That feels so good,” the woman said without any sign of emotion. She probably said that to all her clients to keep them happy, and a dark rage began to fill his mind.

“Shut up,” he growled, as he drew back his fist to hit her. This was all wrong, and it was her fault somehow, although the tiny portion of his mind that was still rational didn’t know how. Still, this was all wrong. He shouldn’t be in this place. He should be back at his apartment.

She should be Grell.

The woman winced and turned her head slightly as she awaited the blow, and the sight shocked William as he realized what he was about to do. Immediately, he pulled out of her and moved away as he struggled to gain control over himself.

She sat up on the bed with an emotion that was hard to read and watched him as he quickly dressed and tossed some money on a broken table. He raced out the door blindly, and somewhere behind him he heard a whoop of laughter. Somehow he knew it was directed at him, and his anger only grew. He had to get out of here before he could no longer control his growing rage, so he quickly teleported away. Although it was against the rules, he didn’t care if there were witnesses to him simply vanishing.

He reappeared in his apartment, but it provided him no escape from the torment in his own mind. He was losing precious control by the second, but he had no idea what he should do. The idea of turning himself over to the institute seemed less appealing by the second, but he couldn’t see any other option available to him. Stumbling almost blindly, he went to the kitchen in the vain hope that a cold glass of water might help.

That’s when he saw the red coat, her red coat, hanging with deceptive innocence on the back of a chair.

The tiny fragment of his rational mind realized that Grell must have left it behind when he had thrown her out the day before, but the sight of it only angered him more. Somehow Grell was the key to all of this, and he picked up the coat to bring it close to his face. It even smelled like her, and his neglected member throbbed and ached with the realization.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He wanted to ignore it, but he sound repeated itself and reverberated in his head painfully. With something of a growl, he stomped to the door and swung it open to yell at whoever it was creating such a noise. To his surprise, Grell was standing there with a peculiar look on her face.

“Will,” she gasped, “I wanted to check on you. Where have you been? Oh, and you have my coat.”

She might have said more, but William wasn’t listening as he yanked her inside and shut the door. Ignoring her surprised gasp, he slammed her against the wall and shoved his mouth on hers until he could taste blood. This was how this was supposed to feel as he rubbed his aching groin against her and began tearing at her shirt. Lust intermingled with his rage as he jerked and tugged at her clothes until she made the mistake of pushing him away.

((x))

Grell had vivid fantasies of her and William which she loved to play from time to time in her head like an imagined cinematic record. There were times that he was a gentlemen; hesitant and gentle with each touch, but there were other fantasies where they simply couldn’t contain their passion for each other. She had always enjoyed these fantasies, but a part of her hadn’t been prepared for the reality.

To say that had been surprised when William had jerked her inside and shoved her against the wall to kiss her roughly would have been a massive understatement. Still, his lips were finally on hers and his hands were roaming her body. She had longed for his touch for so long that she wanted to ignore the fact that he was acting oddly, but then she heard the ripping of her shirt and the sound of a few buttons hitting the floor.

Pushing him back slightly, she looked into his eyes. “We don’t have to rush, darling,” she said.

William’s lips pulled back in a snarl and he suddenly punched her without warning. Her hand banged painfully into the wall behind her, and she could feel the area around her eye swelling. There was no question now that something was definitely wrong. While William had never hesitated to physically discipline his subordinates, he wasn’t acting as supervisor in this case, nor had she done anything wrong. She shoved him away, harder this time, and met him with a cold gaze.

“Stop it,” she demanded, as she pushed away from the wall and reached for the door.

With a growl, he jerked her back by her hair and threw her in the direction of the couch. She stumbled slightly, but managed to keep her footing as he approached while undoing his pants.

William was stronger than her, but she was not weak by any stretch of the imagination. When he stepped closer, she caught him directly on the chin with a perfect uppercut that sent him reeling back a few steps, but he wouldn’t go down so easily. He caught her second punch in midair and twisted her wrist painfully as he hit her once more in the face. Blood poured from her nose as he reached down to manipulate her own slacks.

Grell didn’t hesitate to bring her knee up sharply into William’s crotch. She heard his quick intake and breath as he fell beside her, but she didn’t take the time to see if he was okay. Grabbing her coat, she ran outside as the first few tears filled her eyes. William, her William, had attempted to rape her, and she just couldn’t wrap her mind around that fact. Nothing about this made sense. Choking back sobs, she ran blindly towards home.

((x))

Ronald felt like he was walking on air as he navigated the familiar route towards Emily’s house. She had wanted to go home and change, and he actually appreciated this time before their date. He had already decided that tonight was the night he was going to admit that he loved Emily, and he was anxious and excited. There was a fear that she might not feel the same way, but deep in his heart he thought that perhaps this was the true beginning of their relationship.

As he walked around the corner, a strange noise reached his ears. Looking up, he saw Grell running from a building in a strange state. There was blood on her face and her clothes were ripped, but what upset Ronald the most was that she was crying. He had seen her upset in the past, but he had never seen her so broken and sobbing. She was apparently too caught up in her problems to even notice Ronald as she turned and ran off in the opposite direction.

It only took Ronald a second to realize she had ran from William’s place, and Ronald frowned darkly as he wondered what that truly meant. Putting his date on hold, he walked up and knocked on William’s door, which swung open easily. William was leaning over the couch slightly.

“What’s going on Mr. Spears?” Ronald asked, “I just saw Senior Sutcliff run out.”

When William raised his eyes to look at Ronald, he realized he had made a crucial mistake because what he saw was not the eyes of a reaper.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please forgive the delay. My computer was destroyed by a virus, but I did manage to get my files off first.

**Chapter 4**

_She stood alone on the small hill and cursed the beauty of the day which seemed to mock her very existence. Tears streamed down her face and obscured her vision, but she tore her eyes from the scenery to stare down at the crumbled note in her hand. She didn't need her sight to read what had been hastily scrawled on the page. She had read those two sentences so many times in the past hour, the words had been branded on her heart._

_"I'm sorry. I'm just not strong enough."_

_This should be her moment. Instead of crying in this torment, she should be laughing as she locked hands with her lover so they could run off and face the world together. Their future would be uncertain, and they were bound to face some hatred, but he had promised to stand by her side. He had claimed to love her and that he understood, but he had run away just like everyone else. In the end, he had been too weak._

_She had a note of her own tucked into her pocket, but this one was full of venom for all the people who had failed her. Setting it to the side, she pulled a large knife from her bag and stared at the blade as if fascinated. She didn't want to do this, but life had just hurt her one too many times, and she saw no relief on the horizon. She would forever be judged and misunderstood. She would forever be alone._

_As she brought the blade to her wrist, she cast her eyes upward as a pseudo prayer fell from her lips. "If there is another life beyond this, oh please let me find a love that is strong enough to stand by my side."_

((x))

Grell sat silently in the soapy weather and watched as the steam rose around her. Normally, the hot water kneading at tired muscles and the steam relaxed her, but now the misty air only took on the red hues of her scarlet towel and candles so that it had a hellish glow. Perhaps that was the reason she was being assaulted by so many memories. How much a reaper remembered of their human life did vary from individual to individual, but she had always vividly recalled the end of her life. She had been in love with a young man named Elijah, who had claimed to love her in return. Knowing their families, nor society in general, would approve, they had formed a plan to run away together, but Elijah had left her a note instead. He had been too weak to face the world for her, so she had taken her own life with her final thoughts being the wish for a man that was strong enough to love her.

Grell removed the plug so the water could swirl freely down the drain as she carefully stepped out of the tub, but she couldn't release her memories so easily. Somehow, her final wish had remained in her mind when she had been reborn, and it completely changed the way she acted and behaved. Her new body was so strong and agile where she had been rather physically weak in life due to poor health, so she had decided to take advantage of this change. She pushed people away and bullied them, and a tiny part of her thrilled that everyone now seemed afraid of her. She'd see them step out of the way when she walked down the halls, and even some of the instructors would move aside with the fear written clearly on their faces. It felt good to be in control and to have some power, but her loving heart had still cried out for someone.

Grell walked over to her mirror and wiped away the condensation so that she could see her face. The dried blood had been washed away, and the bruises had already faded due to her advanced healing abilities. There was no sign that she and William had physically fought outside of the pain stamped in her eyes, but no one looked close enough to see it. She could hide it easily with a sharp toothed smile and risqué comment.

She had noticed William early on, of course, with his dark hair and tall build and had been immediately attracted. Sadly, he had seemed as weak as any of the others, so she had been the meanest to him. It was wrong that she was attracted to another weak man, so it was as if she was punishing him for her feelings. He seemed to accept this behavior until he finally had stood up and fought back. That's when she had realized he was secretly strong, and the walls she had built up around her heart crumbled like fragile china. From that moment on, she had accepted she loved William, and became determined that he would love her one day.

At first, William's advances towards her tonight had been like something out of one of her fantasies. She had often imagined that he would take charge, and the feel of his hands and lips had been intoxicating. This was what she had been wanting for so long, but the sounds of her clothes being ripped away had brought an unexpected fear to her mind. Although she wanted to be bold, she was scared because there was one thing that William didn't know.

She was a virgin.

She had been determined to only give herself to someone she loved and had fallen in love with William soon thereafter, so she had waited. Sex was viewed rather casually in their world, so her attitude was peculiar, and she had never vocalized her desire to wait. Despite this truth, a rumor had begun that she had sex indiscriminately. In a realm where no one seemed to care who they slept with, she was still branded as 'Slutcliff,' although she pretended to not know the existence of the unfortunate nickname. No one would have believed her if she had told the truth, so she simply flirted with the very people who spread the rumors and used the sauciest innuendos her imaginative mind could conjure. It might have seen counterproductive, but it was the way she had learned to deal with the situation.

William undoubtedly thought she was overly sexual as he had said as much in the past, but she had always planned to tell him the truth. In fact, had things continued on their course, he might have discovered the truth this evening, but when she had asked him to slow down out of her own fear, things had taken a violent turn.

While she knew she hadn't done anything wrong, she couldn't silence that small part of her mind that insisted it was partially her own fault. After all, she had wanted to be with William and had made this abundantly clear over the years. Perhaps things would have worked out for the best if she had not fought back and simply submitted.

She shook her head violently to dispel the thought, and the slightly damp tendrils of hair that had escaped the messy bun on her head slapped at her damp skin. She knew such a line of thinking of dangerous. It didn't matter how much she had wanted William, he had still tried to take advantage of her. Her being flirty or having a bad reputation was no excuse. What he had tried to do was wrong.

But she still couldn't quite silence that voice.

Barely resisting an urge to slam her fist through the mirror, she wrapped a soft robe about her body and walked into the bedroom to dress for bed. Although she knew Upper Management would frown upon her thinking, she wished there was another deserter so she could work off all this restless energy. Benjamin had barely even put up a fight the night before, and there had been so much information on him it had been easy to locate the boy. As she been contracted to do, he had been summarily executed on the spot, although she honestly didn't understand the reasoning. Most deserters simply tried to lead normal lives, but that was futile since their inability to age and die naturally forced them to constantly be on the move. There was no true rest or happiness for them, but she had long since learned not to question such decisions. Besides, the feel of her scythe slicing through a body and the spurt of fresh blood would do wonders for her mood at the moment.

There was no one to hunt or kill at the moment, however, so she simply dressed in a pair of red and black silk pajamas and crawled into bed. Perhaps things would be clearer in the morning.

((x))

Eggshell white.

The obnoxiously plain color was the first thing William became aware of as his eyes slowly opened and adjusted to his own ceiling lights. Unlike a lot of reapers, William had never bothered to repaint his apartment for it seemed like a waste of energy and time. Besides, he had no eye for color or decoration, so he had left his surroundings as plain as most viewed his personality.

His head ached and throbbed as if was infested with a swarm of angry wasps that swirled about so that his thoughts and memories were lost in buzz. He remembered returning from the pub and seeing Grell's coat. There had been a knock at the door, and he thought he could remember that his visitor had been Grell herself, but his mind was blank after that. He couldn't remembered what he had said to the redhead, or how he had wound up lying on his own floor. "Honestly," he mumbled to himself as he brought up his hand to rub his throbbing temples.

The coppery scent of blood filled his nostrils and he could see the drying gore affixed to his hand like a gruesome glove. Despite the throbbing in his head, he sat up quickly, but he was not prepared for the horror that spread around him like an unspeakable nightmare.

Blood had been splashed on the walls in an hideous pattern so that it looked like a field of violent, exploding roses, and he could hear the steady drip where the bodily fluid was so thick it hadn't yet dried. The drip was as monotonous as the clock on the far wall - or the beating of heart. In the center of the crimson mess, a body lay motionless and still. Crawling forward on his hands on knees, William slowly approached the body.

The hair was red, and he immediately thought of Grell, but it had only been dyed red by the copious blood. A few of the short strands that had managed to escape the gore were blond and black, and he knew even before he saw the ostentatious watch that this was actually Ronald. Dread welled up within him as he turned the body over to survey the damage.

There was no question that Ronald was dead. Half of his face had been torn away leaving behind only torn muscle and a few teeth which glistened obscenely from the hole tore from his cheek. His left eye had been ripped from it's socket, but the right looked up blankly at William. The green and gold had become faded and sightless, and it looked more like a marble staring out in horror. It appeared that Ronald had tried to scream in the end, and his mouth had been frozen as a gaping maw of horror. His neck had and chest had also been clawed and torn to shreds. Some of the damage had obviously been done by a scythe, but William couldn't help but notice that other wounds appeared as if someone had tried to rip Ronald apart with their bare hands. William knew that those hands belong to him.

What was even worse was that he could sense that Ronald's soul and records were missing. The absence of his soul was disturbing enough since this meant that Ronald could not be reborn, but there was no reason for his records to be missing as well. A scythe separated the two easily, but there was no mistaking that the records were missing as well.

Carefully, William stood up and walked with a false calmness to the telephone. Punching in a few numbers, he waited until a voice came on the line.

"How may I direct your call?" a professional sounding woman inquired. It struck William that her voice might not suit her image at all, and he had to stop himself imagining how she might truly look.

"My name is William T. Spears," he announced, "I live in Flat E on West Street. I have just killed dispatch agent, Ronald Knox. Please send the authorities."

He hung before the woman had a chance to respond, and winced slightly when he noticed the smudge of blood left on the phone. With the same measured stride, he walked into the bathroom to wash up, but he wasn't really surprised to find that the blood didn't wash away so easily. His hands should be stained by his deeds.

Afterwards, he stepped into the bedroom to retrieve a sheet and was just positioning it over Ronald's face when there was a heavy thud upon his door. It was far too hard and explosive to simply be a knock, but William steadied himself as he opened the door and stepped aside. The two men that stomped inside were broad and muscular with something akin to disgust written on their features. With their identical uniforms and similar shortly cropped, dark hair, William had trouble telling the two apart, but he didn't spend much time examining their faces. Instead, he held out his hands to await the celestial handcuffs.

"William T. Spears," one of the men barked, "You are under arrest for murder." He slapped the handcuffs on William's wrists, and William was surprised to find that the cuffs rather hurt. He had never heard of any sort of pain associated with the implements, but he hadn't really discussed being arrested with anyone either. Accepting the pain, he nodded as he allowed himself to be led from his apartment.

The same man continued to talk, but William couldn't focus on the words. He couldn't stop the accusations swirling about in his own mind. This was all his fault. If he had admitted he had been having issues, he might have been put into the Facility, and Ronald would still be alive. His own fear of being institutionalized had caused all of this, and he knew the punishment for such a crime. Murder was bad enough, but actually destroying the soul and records was an offence punishable only by death.

And he deserved it.

((x))

Grell strolled into Dispatch while humming a happy tune; the sounds of her heels clacking on the tiled floor creating a bit of a rhythm. Only a few glanced her way, although her antics were mostly ignored these days, which suited Grell just fine. In truth, she certainly didn't feel as carefree as she was acting. She had gotten very little sleep the night before, and had to apply just a little more makeup around her eyes to disguise this little fact. It would doubtful anyone would notice, but she didn't want anyone to question how she felt - especially since she wasn't quite sure herself. Despite going over the matter continually in her own head all night, she still wasn't sure what to make with the way William had acted. She had to confront him directly.

With faux confidence, she steadily walked towards William's office, but frowned slightly when she noticed the door was closed. He usually left it open of the morning so he could keep an eye on who was arriving late to work. Even so, Grell knocked lightly, but wasn't really surprised to find there was no answer. With an exaggerated sigh, she turned towards Miss Fletcher, who was just sitting down at her desk, to ask if she knew of William's whereabouts, but was shocked to see that the secretary was looking at her with a horrified expression.

"Don't tell me William's out again?" Grell asked lightly. As soon as the words left her mouth, she could hear the whispers whipping around her like a unseasonably cool wind that marked the coming of a terrible storm. She was used to the whispers as they had hounded her through two lives, but something in her heart told her this was more than mean spirited gossip, and she unconsciously wrapped her arms slightly around her body.

Miss Fletcher swallowed once, and Grell saw that the woman was trying her best to be professional. "Mr. Spears will not be in today," she managed to reply, "Nor will he be coming in again. Upper Management will be sending a replacement supervisor down later today."

"But why?" Grell asked. She dreaded the answer, but she knew she had to hear the truth.

"There was….an incident last night," Miss Fletcher replied, "It appears that Mr. Spears killed Mr. Knox, and he is now being held in the Ethereal Prison."

Color faded from Grell's world as she desperately tried to make sense of what Miss Fletcher had said. The secretary was still talking, but Grell couldn't focus on the words as she hurried to the small office she shared with Ronald. His desk looked the same as it always did with it's slight clutter, although she noticed that his collection of girls' pictures had been replaced with a single one of Emily. There were no assignments on his desk, however, and that was enough for Grell to know the truth. Ronald was gone.

She staggered back a few steps and leaned heavily on her own desk. Ronald was gone, and William was imprisoned. She had lost them both, but in a way that hurt her far more than anything she could have imagined. Ignoring the stack of assignments on her desk, she suddenly pushed herself away and stomped out of the door. As she marched down the hallway, everyone stepped aside. It was just like in her academy days, but she no longer sought to be feared. She only wanted to be left alone as she left Dispatch and hurried towards the prison.

Unlike the shadowy realm she had visited previously, the prison itself was far from hidden. It set solidly just beyond the business district and rose up like a jagged, foreboding mountain. Yet most seemed to try to ignore or deny its existence; often refusing to even look in the direction. Grell found this laughable since accepting or not accepting something didn't change its reality but perhaps things were different for someone who had actually been held within the unforgiving walls at one time. Her stride didn't waver, although she felt her heart speed up a bit as she approached the high gate. Although she had been here many times since she had accepted the position of bounty hunter, or recovery agent as it was sometimes called, she had never been able to escape the feeling the gate was nothing more than a metal filled mouth ready to swallow her whole. Keeping her face neutral, she approached the gate and motioned to a guard in a nearby  shack.

Since she had been to the prison multiple times for information, the guard barely glanced at her through the window before yawning and activating some situations. She thought his name was Thompson, and she had yet to see him look anything other than bored as he routinely read a book and scratched at his bald head. This was probably because there was so much security inside the prison, his job was little more than sitting in a small shack for long hours. Thompson returned to his book as the gate slid open soundlessly and she stepped inside. Without waiting to see the gate closed, she marched quickly to the front entrance where she encountered two identical, narrow doors. Typically, she stepped though the door on the left, which led to the offices, but instead, she opened the right door. Unlike the gate, it creaked loudly and heavily as if announcing her visit, and walked inside a small room. A larger door was located directly opposite, but first she walked up to a short counter on the left wall. Another guard was sitting inside, but he was almost an exact opposite of Thompson. His name tag identified him as Wilson, but his nervous twitches told Grell he was fresh from the academy. He regarded her with wide-eyed shock as he quickly adjusted this glasses and ran a hand through his sandy hair. "Yes," he began, "Can I...uh...can I help you?" She almost felt sorry for him, but his experience just might work to her advantage.

"I need to see the prisoner, William T. Spears," Grell stated firmly, "and I don't have time to wait around."

Wilson fiddled with some papers. "Uh, no one is supposed to see that prisoner," he replied, "You can put in a request or-"

"I don't have time for these games!" Grell interrupted, slamming her open palm on the counter, "I am reaper recovery agent 6537-006, Grell Sutcliff. There is danger that this prisoner will attempt escape, and I came to prevent this problem before it arises. If he escapes while you're playing out here, the ensuing incident will be blamed on you. Do I make myself clear?" She was lying of course. While she was a listed recovery agent as part of her probation, there had no warnings William would even try to escape. She only hoped he bought her little act, but she was an amazing actress after all.

"You are listed as a recovery agent," he finally said, "but I'll need to call my supervisor."

"Do whatever you want," Grell replied in a dismissive tone, "but let me speak the prisoner while you're making your little call."

The young man paled beneath his brown hair and swallowed loudly. "Okay," he finally agreed, as he pushed a button. "He's in cell 7, but you should wait." The large door in front of Grell unlocked audibly and swung inwardly almost imperceptibly. Keeping her face stony, she strode forward and stepped through the doorway - ignoring his plea. She could hear Wilson frantically calling his supervisor as the door slammed shut behind her and locked. There was no turning back now, nor did she have any desire to do so. She had to see William.

Her footfalls were loud and echoed through the halls, but she wasn't concerned. There were few prisoners or guards actually inside this facility, nor did she particularly fear Wilson's supervisor. From her own experience, she knew that most of the supervisors took extended breaks and were hard to reach when needed. She almost smiled at the thought as she strode to cell 7 and stood in front with her arms crossed.

William looked up slowly, and the surprise was evident on his typically cold face. This short time in prison had already taken is toll as his hair was messy and there were dark circles about his eyes. She was ready to feel any sympathy for him, however, as she simply stared at his seated form.

"Sutcliff," William said, "What are you doing here?"

"Did you kill Ronald?" she demanded instead of answering his question.

He opened his mouth to answer, but quickly close it again as his eyes slipped back to the stone floor of his cell. "It appears that I did," he admitted.

"Why would you do that?" she asked, "What you did to me was bad enough, but I could have forgiven you for that." Her anger was rising as her hands shook. She wanted to kill him at this moment even if she knew it wouldn't kill her pain.

He looked up with what appeared to be genuine confusion. "What I did to you," he said, "What do you mean?"

She waved the question away as if it was nothing more than an annoying insect. "That's not important," she lied, "what is important is that killed Ronnie, and I can't forgive you for that." Taking a deep breath, she started to walk away because she knew it was becoming impossible for her to control her feelings but paused just before walking out of sight. "I hate you," she announced, "As much as I ever loved you, I hate you now." With those words, she left William to sit in his lonely cell, although she knew it wouldn't be long. Upper Management didn't procrastinate when it came to punishments, and she already knew William's fate.

 

((x))

 

The silence within the prison was almost deafening as William sat silently in his lonely cell. Grell was gone. She had said her peace and had left, and he couldn't really blame her. He knew she had been close to Ronald, but what hurt him most was what she had said. She had said she had hated him. He had never dreamed those words could have fallen from her lips, but it had happened. This was all like some sort of horrible nightmare from which he couldn't awaken. He buried his face in his hands as he tried to make sense of it all. He had known he was losing control over his sanity, but he could never imagined actually killing Ronald, and he had no idea what he had done to Grell. William could have cried if he hadn't taught himself not to do so long ago.

He wasn't sure how long he sat in that position when he became aware that someone was approaching, and he looked up in hopes that Grell had returned, but he soon realized that it was more than one individual. Adjusting his glasses, he sat up straight so he could greet these visitors with what little dignity remained. After a moment, the warden along with two large guards appeared. The warden was a handsome man with steel grey hair and a slender build, but the two guards looked more like stone statues that somehow gained the ability to move.

"Hello, Mr. Spears," greeted the warden in a dull voice, "How are you doing?"

"I am fine," answered William, "considering the circumstances."

The warden nodded briefly. "You will have a trial tomorrow," he said, "but it is only a formality. You will be executed the following day. Do you understand this?"

"Yes, sir."

"That's good," said the warden, "Now, we just have to put on a containment collar."

The warden might have said more, but William was't listening. He couldn't listen as his mind began to shriek and squeal almost as if it was in terror. It made no rational sense for William to be afraid of the collar, but he couldn't deny the fear and anger welling up within him. He looked up desperately and opened his mouth to ask for some assistance, but a loud beast like growl escaped his throat.

His body was suddenly no longer under his control as he watched himself suddenly leap towards his feet and lunge towards the guards. He heard their terrified cries as they blood splattered on the walls. Somehow, he had managed to grab hold of one of the guard's scythe and he knew he was about to kill again. Just before, he felt himself falling into unconsciousness, and he only hoped that someone would be able to stop him before he escaped.

 

((x))

 

Grell's feet were dragging as walked through dispatch covered in blood that was not her own and too tired to worry about putting on an act. Everyone still stepped out of her way as she slowly walked to the office she used to share with Ronald. For once, she was thankful as she didn't feel like really talking to anyone else. With a loud sigh, she stepped into her own office and closed the door.

"I expected you back sooner," a voice stated.

She jumped before turning around only to see Lawrence Anderson sitting at Ronald's desk. Although she respected the man, she still didn't like seeing someone sitting at her junior's desk, but she decided not to make it an issue. "Why are you here?" she asked, as she laid her bloody chainsaw on her desk. It was still hot from where she had used it to kill three demons who made the mistake of showing their faces while she was collecting souls.

"There's been another deserter," Anderson said calmly, "and I think you'll be especially interested in this one."

She turned around just in time to see him throwing a file in her direction. She caught it easily, although she was confused as to how she hadn't heard a single whisper about anyone deserting. Curious, she opened the file and almost dropped it in surprise when she saw William's unsmiling face looking up at her. "William...escaped?" she asked.

"Yes," Anderson, "but we have a lot of information on him; some very important information. You'll need to read that file carefully, and I have some other things you need to take."

Grell smiled coldly. "This is perfect," she said in an oddly quiet tone.

"Pardon?" Anderson asked.

"This is perfect," she repeated, as she picked up her customized scythe and pointed it towards Anderson. "After all," she said, "I should be the only one who is allowed to take William's life." 


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5:**

The room was dark except for a single, flickering candle in the far corner. Particles of dust danced about the flame, but the light was swallowed by the oppressive dark which painted the room in it's dreary tones. Despite this, William found that he could see his surroundings fairly well, and he sat up slowly to examine his new location. His head ached slightly as he moved, but he did his best to ignore the sensation as he looked.

Cobwebs hung from the corners of the low ceiling like ruined lace; laminated by years of accumulated dust. The same grime coated every available surface, including a pile of books, ancient by even William's standards, which had been tossed carelessly into the corner. A nearby lopsided desk was covered in yellowed parchment and countless jars, whose glass surfaces winked vaguely in the available light. Realization dawned on William, and he jumped quickly from the stone slab on which he had been sitting. This musty room was in the abandoned shop of the deserter known only as Undertaker - or, more specifically, a subbasement of the shop. It's location was only known to a few individuals as William had only accidentally stumbled upon it during a recent investigation, although the higher-ups hadn't seem particularly interested in the location. He had done his best not to care about their lack of interest since it wasn't his place to question, although it was impossible to completely quiet the nagging little voice in the back of his mind that demanded why.

Still uncertain of who or what might have lain on the slab before him, he quickly knocked the dust off of his clothes with exaggerated care. Even though he was alone, he did so with no outward emotion or betrayal of the innermost workings of his mind. His attire in order, he reached up to adjust his glasses, and it was only then that he noticed the eye wear was missing.

Panic seized his heart. His glasses were his tie to his realm and proof he was worthy to be reaper. Without them, he was nothing more than some creature that should have been dead a long time ago, but what scared him even more was that he could see. It was said that when a reaper truly deserted, and gave up his glasses, he regained a somewhat normal vision, or what had been normal during his life. William hadn't worn glasses in life, so it seemed that part of the rumor was true, and the truth weighed heavily on his heart.

He was a deserter.

He had given up on any chance of redemption. His absolute best future now was one of being constantly on the run while waiting for officials or a recovery agent to discover him. While he still was basically immortal, that was now more of a sentence than ever before. Somehow, it now seemed fitting that he was hiding out in the underground lair of another deserter.

With a loud sigh, he walked across the room, watching as plumes dust rose in his wake, to the lopsided desk. Shuffling the papers around, he looked for a clean sheet and a pen to write an apology. In truth, he had little idea of what he was apologizing for precisely. He knew he had killed Ronald, and he feared that he had killed some of the guards in the prison. As he lost consciousness, he heard their terrified screams slicing through the air - and odd disjointed laughter that could only been the sound of someone who had been driven mad at the sight. William still didn't quite understand why no one had stopped him or how he had came to be in this place. Perhaps he would learn the truth one day, but that would probably only happen if he was caught.

"I should turn myself in," he said aloud, and he was surprised at the hoarseness of his voice, "I am a criminal, and that was the right thing to do." Despite his words, he knew that he wouldn't give himself up to the authorities. It wasn't something he could explain, but he somehow was aware that he wasn't going to return to his realm without a fight. All he could assume was that he wasn't as moral as he had always thought.

Somewhat depressed, he found a slightly soiled yet empty page and put his pen to paper. At least he would have a chance to record some of his final words.

 

_My name is William T. Spears, and I'm writing this letter to apologize for all that I have done._

 

He paused as his pen trembled just above the paper, and he had no idea of what he should say. He had apologized, but a single sentence simply wasn't enough to convey his true grief at his actions. It just wasn't good enough.

_"You were never good enough."_

He jumped a little at the voice, and almost turned around to see who had spoken, but his mind suddenly recognized the voice. It was the voice of his father; disappointed as always. While he knew his father had died many years earlier, to hear his father's words didn't particularly surprise him. After all, he had heard it said that those going insane often heard voices.

 

((x))

 

Grell walked quietly through the empty rooms of William's apartment as she looked about the modest surroundings. While she had been here in the past, she had never noticed just how plain and sparsely it was decorated. When William had lived here, it seemed to fit him so well that Grell had barely noticed. This place was simply a part of William, but now it looked like the neglected set of a somber play. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly as she glanced through all the doors and cabinets. There was no clue where William might be hiding, but she hadn't really expected there to be.

When someone deserted, a file was comprised of their usual haunts or possible hiding spots, but there had been little information on William in that regard. He rarely traveled to the human world and usually only did so when it was absolutely necessary. He had no favorite places to visit or anyone who might be considered even an acquaintance. She had known more information than the file contained, which she recognized as being rather sad. William truly had very little beyond his work.

The soft sound of wings filed the apartment, and she wasn't surprised when a soft, feathery body landed on her shoulder. "Hello, Rosalind," she greeted the plump pigeon, "Do you know where Willy is?"

Rosalind cocked her head slightly and looked at Grell with her dark eyes almost inquisitively. She didn't coo in response, nor did Grell expect her to as William had once told her that female pigeons didn't coo like their male counterparts. 

"You must be hungry," Grell reasoned, "now that Will isn't here to feed you." Almost managing a smile, Grell stepped into the kitchen and retrieved the bird seed. Rosalind was practically dancing on her shoulder as Grell poured some into a small dish. "Here you go," she offered, and Rosalind didn't appear to need a second invitation. There was no doubt that she had been quite hungry with the way she devoured the food. "I'll come back and feed you," Grell announced, walking to the door, "so you won't get hungry again." While the pigeon was distracted, she slipped out of the door, but her heart was heavier than ever. While feeding poor Rosalind was a good thing, it only illustrated how helpless she was at the moment. She couldn't really do anything else in this situation, and she hated feeling like this. She just wanted to return things back to how they had been before, but she knew that it was impossible.

A loud tone echoed through their realm as if it was the clanging of a giant bell. The sound reverberated painfully in Grell's head, but she she only looked to the west because she knew what that sound meant. It was time for Ronald's funeral.

Funerals weren't a common occurrence in their realm, although Ronald's was far from the first. Typically it was a reaper who had been killed by a demon, but such an event hadn't happened in a very long time. Reapers who deserted weren't given the formality of respect of an actual funeral after their deaths since they were thought to have died without honor. While it wasn't a written rule, it was frowned upon to even talk about someone who had deserted in any sort of positive or respectful manner, and a funeral was certainly out of the question. After Eric's and Alan's death, their names had been stricken from all of the current records. William had tried to convince Upper Management that Alan hadn't technically deserted since the sickly reaper had been well-liked and many wanted a funeral, but it had been an impossible task as Alan had been discovered without his glasses.

Grell wrapped her arms about herself as she realized that her thoughts always returned to William. Despite the fact that she was walking to the funeral of someone who had died by his hand, she couldn't seem to stop thinking of him. Perhaps he had simply occupied her mind for too long, but she did her best to push her musing aside as she slipped inside the large entrance of the library. There were no churches in their realm, so all funeral were held here. Normally it was fitting since a reaper slain before redemption could be reborn so their memories would be passed to another body along with their soul, but now it almost seemed mocking. Ronald's soul had been ripped from his body cruelly, so there was no chance he would ever be reborn nor could he pass on to any other existence. He was simply gone.

The library was full as Ronald had been a very popular and well-liked young man, but the somberness of the occasion hung on the air like a stifling smoke. Conversations were being held in hushed tones and the occasional glimpse of a tear, glistening like a lost jewel, sometimes winked. They were death, but yet the passing of someone they cared about still affected them. It was almost like being human again but only in the most tragic way.

Grell's steps were solid as she locked her eyes on the the massive, mahogany casket setting silent and alone at the center of the room. Even with their best doctors, Ronald's body had been too badly mutilated to be shown, so the lid to the casket had been sealed shut away from prying eyes. Her hands shook as she walked towards that wretched box; wanting to rip the lock away and toss on the cold, marble floor. It didn't matter how he looked now, that had been her Ronnie, and she had loved him as if he had been her little brother. She deserved to see his face one last time. She resisted the urge, however, as she paused in front of the casket and pulled out a single, red rose from her coat. It was a perfect blossom which had been cut when it was still young and fresh. Like Ronald, it was now doomed to die all too soon. "Goodbye, Ronnie," she whispered as she laid the rose on the casket.

"What are you doing here?" a voice hissed.

Confused and annoyed, Grell turned only to find herself facing Emily. When they had met before, Grell had thought she was an average sort of pretty, but her grief had transformed her. While her reddened, puffy eyes wasn't what most would considered attractive, Grell could see the light of pure anguish shining deep within the green and gold depths of her irises. Her face had taken on a sort of glow as well that seemed to radiate around her like errant lightning. She was truly beautiful in that moment, although Ronald was no longer there to admire her. Grell opened her mouth to answer, but Emily didn't seem prepared to listen to anything she had to say.

"I asked what are you doing here?!?" Emily screamed, and her voice echoed off the high ceiling of the library. Conversations around them hushed, and Grell could feel the weight of their eyes. She was used to being stared at since she was the biggest source of gossip at Dispatch, but now it angered her more than usual. Everyone should be focused on Ronald for a change and not her.

"I'm here to pay my respects," Grell replied through clenched teeth.

Emily laughed bitterly. "You have some nerve," she retorted, "How dare you come here when everyone knows you're in love with the bastard that killed Ronald!"

Grell gasped and lunged forward, not quite sure when her death scythe had suddenly appeared in her hand, as Emily jumped backwards only to land on the hard floor with a thud. Although there was fear in her face, that anger never left Emily's eyes as she stared up at Grell defiantly; despite the chainsaw that was now inches from her nose. For her part, Grell took several deep breaths to stop herself from slaughtering Ronald's girlfriend where she sat. 

"Just so you know," Grell finally managed, "I plan to kill the beast that took Ronald away." Her voice was almost a growl and the entire library fell silent at the sound of her breath.

With those words, Grell marched from the library and back towards William's house. There had to be some way to find him, and she was going to discover it. As she stomped along, however, she felt the dampness on her cheeks and realized that she had begun to cry. It wasn't well known, but Grell had given up crying many years ago. Since her rebirth, she had promised herself that no one could bring her to tears again. She was strong now, and she had told herself she was beyond tears.

It looked like she had lied.

 

((x))

 

_Although the house was modest compared to that of their neighbors, the parlor was immaculate and impressive. His mother had seen to that, and even in his youngest years, William could tell that it was important in some way he had yet to comprehend. Company was always escorted to the parlor, and their hushed tones and actions seemed almost more suited to a church, but William hated this room with a passion. For all it's fancy decor and furnishings, the room was haunted._

_On the far wall over the fireplace, a single portrait hung of a young man who looked solidly about the room without a trace of a smile or humor, and he was the ghost that haunted this place. His name had been Martin, and he was actually William's older brother who had died before William had been born. Although he looked like an unassuming man in the portrait, and a bit like an older version of William, Martin had left behind an impossible legacy. Everything he had done was perfection and beyond rebuke. He excelled at everything he attempted, and he was the kind of son that every parent dreamed about having one day, until his untimely death._

_His parents had mourned his passing, and they had thought they would never have another son, but then William came along. When they saw that he resembled their Martin, they rejoiced in thinking they had another chance at the perfect son, but they're hopes were soon dashed. Despite his best efforts, William just could never compare, and he was always left knowing he was a failure. He just couldn't compere with a ghost._

_William could hear his parents in the other room as he slowly moved a chair into place just in front of the painting. He was going to toss that portrait into the fire and be done with it once and for all, even though his knew his parents would be angry. He would take their anger if that meant he would finally be done living in the shadow of a brother he had never even met._

_"I hate you," William whispered to the painting, as his small hands took hold of the frame. A horrible, perverse laughter filled the room as he tossed the portrait into the fire and watched as the canvas began to bubble and warp. His brother's face twisted as if in agony, but the laughter only continued, and he figured out that wretched sound was somehow emitting from his own throat. Somehow, William wasn't even surprised._

 

((x))

 

 William jerked awake almost painfully from the dream as his breath came in ragged gasps. He hadn't intended to fall asleep, nor had even felt tired, but he had undoubtedly succumbed to fatigue for him to fall victim to such an odd dream. Still struggling to catch his breath, he wiped away the sweat that gathered on his brow as he glanced down at the sheet of yellowed paper beneath his arm. A single sentence greeted his eyes. "My brother, Martin, was the perfect son." William had been trying to write a bit about his life, but somehow, those seven words told so much of the story.

That much of the dream had been accurate. His brother had died before he had even been born, but William had been put into constant competition for the ghost of the perfect son. No matter how hard he had tried,  he had been haunted the realization that he could never measure up. The one time he had almost been able to succeed in the one area where Martin had failed, fate had found a way to stop him once more. It was then that William had realized that it was simply pointless to even try.

Oddly enough, the dream hadn't been entirely true. While William had been tempted to burn the painting of his brother, his mother had stopped him before he had even taken it down from the wall. He had never tossed into the fire, nor had ever laughed so horribly, but that laugh had still frighteningly familiar. "What's wrong with me?" he questioned aloud.

"Do you really want to know, darling?" asked the all too recognizable voice of Grell from the shadows.

William jumped to his feet as he turned around to face the red reaper. She was sitting on the steps leading down to this room in an almost casual manner, but he detected something very dangerous in her eyes. The candlelight gave her an orange like glow that suited her somehow as it danced off the lenses of her glasses and winked from the sharp blade of her scythe. He took a breath and straightened his form as he looked at her. "I'm surprised to see you, Sutcliff," he stated with false calmness, "How did you find me?"

Grell's smile grew as she leaned forward to reveal Rosalind setting on her shoulder. "You could say that a little bird told me," she replied, "All I had to do was to ask her to deliver a message, although I stopped her from actually giving you the note and waking you up. You appeared to be having a nightmare." Now that she seemed to realize Grell wouldn't stop her, Rosalind flew over and allowed William to remove a letter tied to her leg, which was blank. Her mission completed, she flew up to a rafter and rested comfortably.

"Perhaps," offered William in reference to the dream, although he preferred to change the subject, "I must commend you on using Rosalind. That was rather clever. So, what happens next at this point? Have you already reported my location?"

She shook her head and her crimson hair swished with her movement. "I don't suppose Upper Management ever informed you, love," she said, "about why they were so lenient on me when I was a bad girl not long ago."

"You killed women not on the death list, Sutcliff," he responded, "which I think counts for a bit more than just being, as you say, a bad girl, but you are right that I was never informed why you received so little punishment."

Grell's shrugged. "I didn't think you knew," she said, "They made me a recovery agent. I hunt down all the naughty little deserters. What do you think of that?"

"I didn't know," he replied, "but the occupation does suit you. So, have you come here to take me back to our realm to face punishment."

"Well, no one really cares if I bring you back or not," she explained, "since you were already slated to die for your crimes. Isn't that just perfect, Will? It is up to me to let you live until they kill you, or to kill you now. Either way, I will be your executioner."

"I suppose it is only fitting," he admitted as he took a step back. He actually wanted to submit since he had committed horrible acts and deserved punishment, but just as he knew he couldn't turn himself in, he knew he wouldn't go quietly. "I must warn you. I will resist."

"I know you will," she answered simply as she stood.

For the briefest of moments they simply looked at one another, but Grell was the one to make the first move as she leaped towards William in a blur of movement. William easily dodged as he called forth his own scythe, but he was surprised by how much she had improved since they had last fought. He was still stronger and faster, or at least he assumed that he was, but he had spent far more time behind a desk the last several years while she had remained in the field. It was only natural that her skills had improved.

"It's useless to resist, darling," she announced, rushing him from the front, "This was fated."

"Perhaps it was," he said, "but I still must resist."

"Must you?"

The question caught him off guard as he realized that despite the screaming and torment of his own brain, perhaps he still had some control over his actions. With every ounce of his willpower, he lowed his own scythe and leaned back his head. He only hoped that she would get this over with quickly as he felt cool metal touch his neck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter.

**Chapter 6:**  

 

A deep throaty scream filled William's ears causing him to wince, but he had no idea who was screaming. His own mouth was shut tightly as he waited for his deserved execution, and he knew that this was not Grell's voice. As the screaming began to fade, he suddenly realized that it was coming from inside his own head, and he opened his eyes in confusion. Grell was standing nearby, but she was making no move towards him. Her scythe was still in her grasp, but the blade was still as she looked at him with a rather unreadable expression. William dropped to his knees, amazed that his head was still attached, as he brought his hands up to his neck to feel at the strange object that had been placed there. "A collar?" he asked.

Grell nodded. "Of course," she explained, "That will help you control it."

"It?" he repeated as his head spun wildly. Despite his pounding head, he did feel oddly lighter and more like himself.

She seemed stunned. "Haven't you guessed, darling?" she asked, "You've been possessed."

Possessed. His mind played with the word, toyed with it, as things slowly slid into place. His uncontrollable moods, lapses of memory, and contorted emotions all made sense. "I'm possessed," he repeated, as he shakily stood to his feet. "I thought such a thing was impossible. How did this happen?"

Grell opened her mouth as if to answer, but shut it quickly as her eyes darted to the floor above them. William couldn't hear anything, but there was still a horrible ringing in his ears from the scream. In this moment, he could only trust that Grell and her ears. "Ssshh," she suddenly hushed him, "I'll have to explain later. Come on." She created a portal, and before William could protest, shoved him through rather roughly. She stepped through behind him, and he saw that Rosalind was now sitting on her shoulder. It would have been hard for William to explain, but he was very attached to the pigeon, and he would have hated if anything had happened to her. "We should be safe here," she announced, as she pulled out a small piece of paper and began to scrawl a quick note.

William had landed hard onto the floor; the combination of the rather startling news he was possessed as well as the constant tingling from the demonic restraint collar at his neck left him rather disorientated. Instead of trying to stand, he looked around at his surrounding to find they were in a rather nice, well decorated room. The furniture was all handcrafted and of the highest quality, and he was curious how Grell knew of such a place. While he was still musing on this, he saw Grell out of the corner of his eye, tie the note to Rosalind's leg. The bird almost seemed to smile now that she had been given a task, and quickly flew out of the room and on to her new destination.

"Where are we?" William asked, "Furthermore, what is happening? How could I, a reaper, be possessed?"

"We have time for answers later," she sang, as she started to leave the room, "Why don't I make us some nice tea first? It will calm us down."

"I don't want to calm down," he said as he stood, "and I think you are avoiding the conversation. You said you'll explain things, and I want that explanation. Tell me how I became possessed."

She sighed. "I'm partly to blame," she admitted before stepping back into the room and sitting on a plush red sofa. He sat down on a nearby chair and watched her intently to see if she was being truthful. "Do you remember that demon that attacked you just after my reap?"

"Of course," he replied, "You killed it."

She shook her head quickly. "I killed the body it was inhabiting, or at least what was left of the body. The smoke I saw afterwards was the demon. When I destroyed it's host, it was free to look for a new one."

"Don't be ridiculous, Sutcliff. Demons do not operate in that manner."

"This kind does," she explained, "It's not a demon I've ever heard of, and according to the information I got, it's never even been seen in this country before." Reaching into her back pocket, she removed several sheets of folded paper which she handed to him. "These demons," she continued, "search for prone individuals. They get the person to accept them somehow, and then they slowly eat the soul, memories, and body - all from the inside. They don't have a physical form as far as I know. Once the person dies or is killed they move on to their next target."

He glanced over the paperwork, "They don't even have a name for this type of demon," he mumbled, before laying the papers aside, "So, because I was unconscious, the demon was able to possess me. Is there anyway to remove it now? An exorcism or something similar?"

"I'm afraid it's not that easy, darling," answered Grell.

"Why is that?"

She looked down at the rug almost shyly, which scared him slightly since had never seen her appear so uncertain about anything. "While under it's control," she began, "You killed Ronnie."

He slumped slightly in his chair as he nodded. "Unfortunately, I know that to be the truth," he said, "but I don't see how-"

"And the demon ate his soul," Grell interrupted. 

He gasped loudly as the weight of this information slammed into him. The demon had eaten Ronald's soul? That would mean he could never be reborn, and it had also caused the demon to fuse to his own soul. "I see," he finally said, but he even could hear the crack in his normally strong voice. He sagged down into his seat. "So, why did you bring me here rather than back to our realm? If you planned to execute me, you should have already done so."

"I'm not taking you back to be executed," she stated.

"Why not? I deserve it after what I've done. Even you said that you hated me."

"I did hate you," she explained, "but that was before I understood." She stood up and looked down at him. "You didn't kill Ronald. The demon did, and you can't blame yourself for what that thing did."

"I let it use me," he replied, "This is my fault, and now that I have control over myself once again, I am prepared to turn myself to face punishment." With those words said, he started to stand, but suddenly felt her hand on his chest as she shoved him back into the chair. He looked up to ask why she would stop him only to find her chainsaw mere inches from his nose. 

"I am not going to let this thing win," she growled, "Don't you understand? If you are killed, the demon will just be free to possess someone else. Killing you will not kill this demon, and I'll be damned if I let that thing take away everything I hold dear. I made a promise to destroy it, and that's what I intend to do."

He blinked several times. "What I'm unsure of," he began, "is how you're going to do that. You've said that killing me won't destroy the demon, and that the demon cannot be exorcised. So what is left?"

She moved the chainsaw down slightly, but her expression didn't waver at first. "Pops is looking into it," she explained, "He's the one who told me to hide you for now. Upper Management wants to deny there's a demon like this, so they just want to have you executed quickly to hide the truth, but I'm not going to let that happen. Do you understand? I'm not going to let them take you away and let the demon win." 

There was something in her voice and the cold light shimmering in her eyes that told him just how serious she was. "My only concern is that I cannot be trusted. This thing is still inside me after all. What if I do something else? What if the demon takes control?"

For the first time since explaining the situation, she smiled slightly and cocked her head curiously. "But that shouldn't happen, darling," she responded, "Not with that collar. Besides, Pops is looking information on the demon as we speak. Soon, we'll find some way to remove it from your body. Maybe we might even find a way to save Ronald." Sadness tempered her expression, and he was well aware she knew there was no way to save someone who's soul had been taken, but he saw that she was clinging to hope."

"What do we do then?" he asked.

"We wait," she said, "All we have to do is sit here and wait. Pops will figure out what to do and everything will be perfectly fine again. It will be just like it was before."

He nodded, although he didn't even think she believed what she was saying at the moment. "I will wait," he agreed, "but only for a short time. If we can't figure out what to do, I will have to turn myself in. Do you understand?"

"Of course I do, love," she said, as she stood up quickly and swiped at what have might been an invisible tear. "Now, how about I go and make that tea?"

He let this go and listened as she rummaged around in what he assumed was the kitchen, but his fears were far from relieved. He was glad that he wasn't going crazy or had been wholly responsible for actions, but he knew things could never go back to the way they were before.

Real life just didn't work that way.

 

((x))

 

Spectacles was at the heart of Dispatch; a almost living central in this realm of the dead. Countless reapers walked through the brightly lit corridors, waiting for their chance to regain their sight, and there was always this hum of activity. Anderson sat in the middle of it all, and he was fully aware that his own talent for custom frames gave him a bit of power and authority. His human life had long since been forgotten, but he somehow knew he had been a quiet, unassuming man. It wasn't in his nature to seek fame or notoriety, yet everyone here knew his name, and this gave him a sort of pseudo power. He wasn't so foolish to think this gave him the freedom to act with impunity or carelessness, but he wasn't blinded that he was given a sort of leeway. There had been a recovery agency beforehand, but he had been the one to organize the system and suggest that those who had to pay off debts and punishments. So far, it had worked out well, and Upper Management had left him alone for the most part.

When the workday ended, so Anderson had left the bright lights and flawlessly white walls of Spectacles for the shadowy realm of his second 'job'. Oddly enough, he felt as if he belonged here even if this position lacked the attention of working on glasses for every active reaper. He was just getting settled with a sudden hush fell over the other patrons of the shadows. Quickly, he looked up and saw a man whom he had never seen before walking towards him. He was a typical man with short, well combed brown hair, an unremarkable dark suit, and simple glasses, but Anderson knew this man was Upper Management. It was just something in the manner he walked and how his eyes scanned the area that gave away his identity. Quickly, the man locked eyes with Anderson, and his stride was purposeful as he walked towards the simple booth. Anderson nerves tightened slightly, but he just wiped away some imaginary dust as if he hadn't even noticed the tall man walking his way. His heart was pounding in his ears to the point he barely heard the man when he simply said, "Lawrence Anderson?"

"Yes?" Anderson replied with false calmness. He raised his eyes to look up at the man and noticed that neither of them was smiling. This man wasn't even trying to pretend this was anything less than official business.

"I have a new agent that will be working for you," the man said, "She is to be assigned to the Spears' case." He stepped aside and motioned to a woman that Anderson hadn't noticed before.

He had only seen her a few times, and the last time had been when young Knox had introduced her as his girlfriend, Emily. Anderson had thought she hadn't looked as flashy as his previous girlfriends, but now there was a radiant anger emanating from her that gave her an ethereal like beauty. Anderson could have asked questions for, as he had understood it, the woman had never worked in the field nor had he heard of any sort of crime she had committed, but he knew that questions were dangerous. "Of course," he agreed, and the tall man nodded and left without another word.

Emily wasted no time. "I need everything you have on Spears," she announced, "and Sutcliff as well."

"I'm afraid I do not have Spears' file," Anderson replied honestly, "I gave it to Agent Sutcliff, who had already taken the case. However, I can tell you that there wasn't much to the file. Mr. Spears had few interests outside of work, and he did not go to the living realm without specific reason." He paused briefly as he allowed her to absorb the information. "Furthermore, I only have files on deserters. Since Agent Sutcliff is not a deserter, I don't have her file." He left out the information about William being possessed as he knew she wouldn't listen, and Upper Management was still in denial. 

"You old fool!" Emily hissed, "Sutcliff didn't show up today. You know as well as I do that freak ran off to be with her precious William. Sutcliff is a deserter, and I demand her file!"

Anderson stood his ground. "Until Agent Sutcliff is officially declared a deserter, there is nothing I can do. I can make you a copy of Spears' file, and it will be ready tomorrow, but that is all I can do for now."

She muttered something under her breath that might have been a swear, although Anderson couldn't make out her exact words, and she turned to stomp away. As Anderson watched her leave, he realized how dangerous she had become. While she had never been trained for the field, and he doubted that she had more than a rookie scythe, she was truly grieving the loss of Ronald.

And grief was a powerfully dangerous emotion.

 

((x))

 

 As Grell made tea, humming as she did so, William took the time to examine their temporary home. He still hated the idea of simply sitting around and waiting, so he tried to hide his annoyance by simply looking around. It was a rather nice home, which he had immediately noticed, which he supposed was a positive since they had to use it as a hiding place, but then he stepped into what he assumed to be some sort of parlor. Like in his own childhood home, the room was dominated by a painting, but this was no portrait of a long dead brother. The subject of the painting was a beautiful woman with crimson red hair. Her low cut gown revealed generous cleavage, and there was secret behind those slightly upturned ruby lips. William almost staggered backwards under the realization that they were in that woman's house; Angelina Dalles, a.k.a Madam Red.

"Tea's ready," Grell called out, "Now, where are you?" She walked into the room and smiled gently. Setting the tea down, she lowered herself in a nearby plush chair. "Why don't you rest, darling?" she asked.

"This is her house, isn't it?" William asked, pointing to the portrait, "Angeline Dalles."

"Her husband's actually," Grell answered, "One of his more modest homes, although it should be fine for our needs."

"Do you not think this is a bit obvious for a hideout, considering...your history?"

She looked up at him steadily for a minute. "It should be fine. This house isn't necessarily attached to Ann, and Pops was the one who suggested it. He knows what information is given out after all. There should even be some time before I'm considered a deserter."

Her answer was logical, which was all he usually demanded, but there was still so many nagging questions in his mind. He sat down heavily. "There is just one thing I need to know," he said.

"What's that?"

He looked at her for several minutes. "Why?" he finally asked, "Why did you do all that? Kill those women and join up with Angelina Dalles? I never understood."

She took a sip of tea. "You may not believe this," she began, "but no one has asked me that before. When I was taken before Upper Management, there were a lot of questions. Mostly it was 'how' I could have broken rules and regulations, but no one asked why." Setting her cup aside, she ran her fingers though her hair and looked at it as if examining for split ends. "It's a bit of a long story, and I'm not sure how you'll feel about it. Are you sure you want to know?"

"Yes," he answered immediately, "Tell me."

Expression faded from her face, and he waited patiently for her to begin. "You know how ever so often there's this new thing from Upper Management about some secret or whatever to redemption?" When he nodded, she continued. "A few years ago, it was all about any regrets from our human lives. It was really annoying and useless." She stood up suddenly. "I don't have any regrets from my human life. I was weak and scared, and now I'm not." She paused suddenly to look down at William with an odd smile. "One day," she said, "I was going into your office to give you some papers, when I heard one of those quacks from psychiatric. Now, do don't get mad darling, but I couldn't resist listening. All I could think of was that maybe I could help you with whatever it was you regretted." She sighed loudly. "But you know what I heard you say, don't you Will? You said the thing you regretted most was not having a son. I was willing to give you anything to make you happy, but that was one thing I couldn't give you." She sat down again, and an uncomfortable silence followed.

"I think I remember saying something like that," he said, trying to break some of the tension.

"But then I thought there might be a way," she continued, "I was always very talented at changing my appearance, and I heard there was ancient, forbidden magic that could allow me to change, uh, more about myself. I thought there might be a way I could give you that son you wanted. I started searching, and I finally did find some of the old texts. Slowly, I worked to do that very thing, and I almost made it, until..." Her voice trailed off.

"Until?" he prompted.

"I was discovered," she said, "Just before I could do it, I was caught. I was sent to your office because I had broken some rule, and you gave me overtime." She laughed bitterly. "I could never even tell you why I was in trouble. Then, on my first note of overtime, I saw Ann." She stared up at the painting and smiled. "I was upset and frustrated," she continued, "I felt like I was being punished by you for trying to do something for you, although I know that wasn't the case rationally. While I was dealing with all this, I saw Ann step from the shadows and brutally kill a whore. Afterwards, she gave a soliloquy so sweet, Shakespeare would have wept at its protection. She stood there in that dank, dark alley, covered in that woman's blood, as she talked about how she could never hold the man she loved, her anguish about not being able to have children, and anger towards those who took it for granted. I know I was wrong, but at that time, looking at her was like looking into a mirror. I felt like we were one in the same."

He was surprised to hear her speak so candidly. "So you decided to help her?" he asked.

"Not right away," she answered, "I watched a few more of her murders before I introduced myself. She was more than a bit in shock, but soon we found we could help each other. I could help her kill those women without being detected, and I could work off some anger and aggression. Of course, it didn't last." 

Standing up, she stretched out the coat. "As you know, I took this coat from Ann after I killed her, but it wasn't really Ann's coat. I actually saw it first, and I wanted it. However, when I tried it on..." For the first time in front of him, she arranged the coat so it set properly, but he could see it was a bit too tight in the shoulders and the sleeves were noticeably short. "I hated that it didn't fit me right," she continued, "but then Ann tried it and it fit her like a dream. I told myself it was okay because we were like the same person, but it always hurt to see her wearing my coat and how beautiful she looked in it." Slipping the coat back to its original position, she sat back down once again. William couldn't help but notice the nervous energy that kept her jumping up and down, although he choose not to mention it.

"It wasn't until she refused to kill that brat," she finally said, "that the illusion was shattered. I was not Ann and she was not me. We were two totally different individuals who were just using each other. And she was wearing my coat."

A pregnant silence followed. "Do you have any remorse?" he finally asked.

"For killing Ann? Yes, a little. I know it was an impulsive act. She was using me, but I was also using her, and I miss having someone that I could talk to like I did her. She betrayed me, and I know she probably would have died anyway, but I can't help but wish that she hadn't died by my hand." Grell sighed softly before continuing. "But I don't regret killing the other women. They had made the decisions that led to their deaths. If I hadn't helped Ann, then someone else would have killed them. It was their fault really."

He thought she was being rather harsh, and he certainly didn't agree with her, but he admired her honesty. He wished he could say something fitting in this situation, but the words seemed to escape him as he looked about until his eyes settled on a nearby window. "It's getting late," he said, "We should probably rest. It's been a long day."

 

((x))

 

Although Grell had slept in this bed many times in the past, she seemed to have trouble falling asleep. She knew she was worried what William thought of her now that she had told him the entire story, but he had asked her directly. Besides, it felt good to finally be able to tell someone the truth. Finally, her mind quietened down enough and she began to drift down under the waves of sleep.

Suddenly, a scream ripped through the house, and she shot out of bed. Even before her bare feet hit the floor, her scythe was in her hand as she rushed towards the source of the sound. Without even pausing, she threw open the door to the room where William had been sleeping, only to see him sitting upright in bed with his face buried in his hands. There was no apparent danger, but she kept her scythe in her left hand as she approached him. "Will?" she asked, reaching out to gently touch him.

He knocked her hand away roughly, and looked up at her with rage filled eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?" he hissed.

"Tell you what?" she asked, but before he could answer, they were interrupted by a soft tapping at the window.

 


	7. Chapter 7

The nightmare, the horrible visions, assualted William's brain, and he was helpless to make it stop. Finally, a scream burst from his lungs and he was able to sit up in the bed. His breath came in ragged gasps, as he held his head in his hands. Even though he was awake, he couldn't shake the memories that continued to play like black cinematic record.

Gell must have entered the room, although he hadn't heard her, because he felt a hand on his shoulder. "Will?" she asked.

He knocked her hand away and stared up at her. "Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

"Tell you what?" Grell asked. She seemed genuinely confused, and might have asked again had there not been a soft tapping at the window. She looked at him for a moment before she walked across the room; her bare feet padding quietly across the wood. For the first time, he noticed she was dressed in a pair of red and black silk pajamas, and her hair had been pulled back in a sensible braid. He tried not to look, but he couldn't help but think about how much better she looked when her hair was loose and wild.

She opened the window and Rosalind flew into the room. The pigeon paused to let Grell retrieve a note carefully tied to her leg before flying over to William. He resisted the urge to shoo the bird away as he felt he didn't deserve her comfort at the moment, but that would have only confused Rosalind. He allowed her to perch on her shoulder as he liked while Grell looked over letter.

"It's from Pops," she announced, "They assigned Emily to your case. I don't think you met her but she was Ron....she was a secretary. Odd choice really. I doubt she has anything more than a practice scythe and isn't experienced in recovery."

Quietly she read he rest of the letter to herself, and he was well aware she had almost said something she had thought better of, but he decided not to challenge her at the moment. His head still hurt as the forbidden images continued to play in his mind, so was only watching her out of the corner of his eye. She captured his attention fully however, as she began to remove her glasses. "What are you doing?" he asked. His voice was hoarse from his earlier yelling.

"Upper Management is about to declare me a deserter," Grell explained, as she motioned for Rosalind, "So I need to go ahead and give up my glasses before they can be used to track me." She handed the eye wear to Rosalind, who took the chain carefully in her beak. "Pops has already instructed Rosalind here to drop my glasses somewhere random.

He jumped from the bed and ran across the room. "You can't desert," he said, "not for me. Not after what I've done." He shook his head as anger flooded his sense. "Why didn't you tell me that I tried to rape you?!?"

Confusion fluttered across her face like an errant butterfly, but then she simply smiled. "Oh, don't worry about that, darling," she said, "Passion just swept us away, and you couldn't resist me."

"Don't!" he growled as he roughly grabbed her arm, "Don't turn what happened into some sort of sick fantasy for your perverted mind!"

A shadow fell upon her features and he saw a danger green fire kindling in her eyes. "Perverted!" she spat, "Is that what you think of me?" With a noise of disgust, she jerked her arm away as she pushed past him to leave, but paused at the doorway to turn and face him. "Just so you know, William," she said, "I hadn't turned anything into any sort of fantasy. I recognize that it was the demon that made you act like that. You're not a rapist, and I know that, and you especially wouldn't try and rape me. You can't even stand me!"

With a huff, she left the room and slammed the door behind her with enough force that William briefly feared she might have broken it. He stood in the center of the room in silence, while Rosalind looked at him with curious eyes. "You should go," he said to her. She looked at him for a few more moments before flapping her wings to fly out into the night. He walked to the window to watch disappear, but he couldn't stop thinking about his argument with Grell. In truth, he had been angry at himself and had taken it out on her. It wasn't fair nor was it even the first, but now he planned to do something he had never done before. He was going to apologize.

He stepped into the hallway and started to turn towards Grell's room when he saw the glow of light coming from downstairs. As he followed the light, he realized that Grell had built a crackling fire in the parlor, and he had to admit the warmth would feel good. It was late autumn, and there was a chill to the night. Quietly, he walked into the parlor only to see Grell sitting in a chair with her feet under her body as she watched the fire. Her face was pale in the reflected light, but her eyes were glistening as if filled with tears she hadn't yet cried. She didn't look at him when he walked into the room and sat down on the couch.

Several minutes passed as he searched for the right words. "I'm sorry," he finally said, "I should have never have insinuated you were perverted."

She snorted. "Those are the rumors, Will," she said, "and I'm well aware of that. I've heard the whispers and gossip."

"But I wasn't being fair." He sighed deeply, "That demon let me see what I almost did to you," he explained, "I had to watch the whole thing, but I couldn't stop it, and it scared me."

"You saw it?" she asked, turning towards him slightly.

"Yes," he said, nodding, "I didn't remember any of it, but now I see why you said you hated me when you came to see me in prison. It wasn't just because of what I did to Ronald."

"What the demon did," Grell quickly corrected, "Did it show you anything else?"

"Not yet, although I say I will see everything soon enough. I am in control of my actions now, but it can still attack me in my dreams." He paused as he studied her features. "And you are mistaken, Grell. I don't not hate you nor can I barely stand you."

"Then why do you act like you do around me?" she asked, turning to face him directly. She blinked a few times nearsightedly, and he doubted he was much more than a blur to her at the moment.

"Because I didn't understand you," he replied, "I never have. You are intriguing but confusing. I want to understand." He paused as he looked up at the picture of Madam Red. "That's why I asked you about her," he said, pointing, "I know it probably came up out of nowhere, but I had to know. I was hoping it would help me to understand."

"Did it?" she asked.

"Somewhat," he said, "but I am still confused. I just don't understand how you could let things get so far out of hand. I knew you could be impulsive, but I never thought you'd go that far. That's what I need to know. How? Was it her?" He gestured again towards the painting, which seemed to smile mockingly at him. "You say you loved her, but were you..." His voice trailed as he found himself hesitant to vocalize his thoughts.

"Was I what?" she asked, "Sleeping with her?" William nodded, causing Grell to throw back her head and laugh almost madly. "Darling, you really don't understand, do you? Ann was in love with her brother-in-law. Obsessed is probably a better word, honestly. She could have never loved me in that fashion. I couldn't have satisfied her, nor could she had done so far me. I also was in love with another, and she could have never taken you place." She turned away slightly. "But maybe I'm just as foolishly obsessed as she was."

This conversation was making him somewhat uncomfortable. She had confessed her feelings towards him so many times, but this was one of the first times he believed her words. "You still haven't haven't answered my other question about how it went so far," he said.

"It's hard to say," she admitted, "I always had all this anger and aggression, and it seemed like it was safe to express it through Ann. At first, I was only collecting souls and helping her set alibis and move around safely. I could watch, but the next thing I knew there was a knife in my hand. Each time I slashed those women, it was like I was killing all those people who call me a whore or Slutcliff behind my back." She laughed bitterly. "Madness is a slippery slope, Will, and I've always been right on the edge. Isn't that true of all reapers though?" Turning around, she put her feet on the floor and leaned towards him. "Now, it's your turn to answer my questions. You say you don't hate me, but you're so rough on me at times. I like my men cold and hard, but there are times you hurt me. Why? Why do you treat me like that?"

He hadn't been prepared for that question. "It is my job as supervisor to keep all my agents in line," he said gruffly.

"I don't buy that, darling," she retorted, "You are rough with everyone, but you are especially hard on me, and you know it. It's been like since my time with Ann. Is that it?"

"I don't think that's relevant."

"Why not?" she asked, "I've been honest with you, and now it's your turn. Why are you meaner to me? Why do you hit me so callously?" 

"Because I almost lost you!" he suddenly admitted but then he shut up quickly. He could tell by the look on her face, he had said far more than he had intended, but there was no turning back. "I thought you were going to be taken away after you committed those murders," he said, "You almost were, and that....scared me. Perhaps I am too rough, but I don't want you to step out of line and miss your chance at redemption. I don't want you to be taken away."

She looked confused. "You're mean to me because you care?"

"That's a stupid reason," he said, "and it's not an excuse." He ran a hand through his uncombed hair. "I'm sorry," he added, "I was too rough on you. I had my reasons, but it was wrong. I don't have any excuse my actions and I can only ask for your forgiveness. If I am still your supervisor after all this is over, I will not hit or abuse you. I will still have to make sure you do your job, but I will not be abusive."

"Perhaps you could just promise not to hit regardless of being being my supervisor," she suggested.

He nodded again. "I promise," he said, "I should have never been so rough on you in the first place. I will never lay hands on you again."

Smiling, she stood up and stretched. "At least not in anger," she said, "I don't care if you lay hands on me in other ways." With a flirtatious laugh, she turned and started back towards her bedroom. "I'll be ready to go in a bit."

"Go? Go where?"

"To the market," she answered, "We don't have much in the way of supplies, and it's almost morning."

"I'll go with you," he offered.

"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, "You were never that good at disguises, and you are wanted at this time. I might not be listed as a deserter just yet, and I was best at altering my appearance." She glanced back over her shoulder with a mischievous shine to her eyes. "I know you don't like to hang around and do nothing, but do let me take care of you just a bit." With a light laugh, she disappeared down the hallway.

 

((x))

 

London was bustling as usual as Grell walked through, but no one even seemed to glance in direction. Of course, that had been the point of a good disguise, but there was still a part of Grell that balked at the idea of simply blending in and appearing like another common person. She was proud of this disguise though, and even William had seemed impressed. She was wearing one of Madam Red's more demure dresses, and one of the few that was actually pink instead of red. Her hair was a plain dark blonde color, and her eyes a dull hazel behind the plain glasses she had saved from when she had played a butler. Although a few of men had nodded courteously as she walked about, but no one took as much as a second glance at her. It was a shame in a way, but at least she was doing something to help Will and her. Money was limited, and she wasn't sure if Pops could send any there way for some time, but she knew how to shop on a budget. Plus, soon she would have a chance to show William that she was an excellent cook. She had been practicing for the last century after all. As she walked about looking for the best ingredients, she began to hum a happy tune. William and her were actually talking and communicating, and soon she would have a chance to win him over with her culinary expertise. Just as she was looking at some potatoes, she heard a voice that she immediately recognized.

"The person I'm looking for is a redhead - very red."

Grell turned slowly; pretending she wasn't searching for the source, and was only mildly surprised to see Emily standing there talking to someone nearby. Despite herself, Grell smiled slightly. While it was commendable that Emily had even thought to check the market, she certainly knew nothing about investigating.

The man Emily had been speaking with shook his head and quickly walked away. Emily was visible exasperated as she looked about the crowd, but her eyes didn't so much as pause as she scanned past Grell. Clenching her fists in anger, she turned and stomped down off the street; drawing more attention than she should to herself in the situation, but most only stepped out of her way. Curious, Grell quickly paid for her items as she began to safely follow Emily from a distance. She wanted to know what Emily's next move might be, even though Grell didn't really think of her as a serious threat. She kept a safe distance as she followed Emily, who disappeared around a corner. Grell didn't still wasn't all that concerned when she reached the corner and peeked around, but what she saw actually caused her heart to beat a bit faster.

Emily wasn't alone, and the tall, broad shouldered man she was speaking to at the moment wasn't a stranger to Grell. Despite the warmth of the autumn sun, Grell felt a chill pass over her as she looked at the member of Upper Management she knew as Mr. Robert Collins. He was the same imposing figure as before, and not even the gentle breeze could move a strand of his black, perfectly groomed hair. While Emily wasn't a threat, this man certainly was, and Grell knew that he hated her. When she had been brought in after the Jack the Ripper affair, he had made it no secret he had wanted her imprisoned for all of her eternity. It was as if he couldn't even look in her direction without curling his lips back in disgust.

Slowly, she started to back away from the corner in  hopes that her presence would remain unnoticed, but suddenly an unearthly hissing filled her ears. She whirled about to find herself facing a snow white cat with mix-matched eyes. The blue and yellow eyes narrowed as it bared it sharp teeth and hissed again. Like Collins, she had seen this cat before and knew it was Collins familiar, Virgil. The feline was no doubt alerting Collins to her location, so Grell knew she had to get out of here in a hurry.

Creating a portal took time, so Grell took off running and quickly jumped up on a nearby roof. Some of the people might have seen her, but she no longer cared as she knew she had to escape. She didn't want to run straight back to William, however, as they still might be able to follow her. In fact, William was the very reason she didn't stay and fight. While she might have been able to stop Collins with force, she had to consider what as best for William as well. Thinking quickly, she jumped down into the street and hurried into the back entrance of Undertaker's shop. Hoping his subbasement was still a secret, she slipped through the secret opening and closed the door behind her. Hoping the leftover smell of chemicals and embalming agents would mask her own scent, she moved away from the door and waited in the darkness. 

Time passed slowly, but then Grell heard the door opening and two sets of footsteps echoing from above. Even the occasional meow reached her ears. "Looks like we lost the freak," Emily growled.

"Sutcliff must have created a portal," Collins replied, "Because Virgil here is hard to trick. At least we know our two troublesome reapers are still in the area."

"Unless they decide to run now," Emily said.

There was a soft, unpleasant laugh. "Those fools will stay nearby" Collins stated, "I'm sure of it, which is good since they have yet to be chipped. Let's head back to streets and continue surveillance."

Grell heard what sounded like them walking out the door once again, but she didn't move right away in case this was simply a trap. As she moved about in the darkness, her foot stuck something heavy and she leaned down to touch the item. It was a book. In fact, she remembered the floor was practically littered with books, and Undertaker had been studying things like demons along with other subjects. Hoping something in the texts could help William, she gathered some of the books along with her groceries before creating a portal to return to her temporary home.

 

 ((x))

 

William had never been comfortable with just sitting around doing nothing. It was part of his nature to keep himself busy and occupied, but now there seemed to be so little that he could do. He was being hunted, and there was still the matter of the demon inside of him. Occasionally, he could even hear it's warped, rumbling laughter, but it seemed to be powerless other than affecting his dreams or the occasional uncharacteristic thought. The collar had it under control, but he still hated the idea that it was alive and living within him. He wanted it gone, and he would turn himself in if there was no other method.

"Will, darling," Grell sang out from the doorway, "I'm back. Mind giving me a hand?"

He quickly followed her voice and saw that she did have quite an armful. As he stepped closer, she handed him several large, thick books. "What are these?" he asked.

"I picked them up at Undertaker's," she answered, "He was doing a lot of research, so I thought there might be some information there about the demon." 

"Good idea," he said, as she stepped past him to take the food into the kitchen. Although she was smiling, he couldn't help but notice a certain nervousness to her features and voice. "Did something happen?" he asked as he followed her to the kitchen. 

"Why do you ask, love?" Grell questioned as she began to look through the pans until she retrieved a sizable pot. "How does stew sound?" she asked, "It was costly, but I got some nice ingredients."

"That would be fine," he said, "but you didn't answer my question. Did something happen today?"

She hesitated. "I ran into Emily," she said, "She's the recovery agent I told you about from Pop's letter. I didn't think she's a threat, so I followed her to see if she knew anything." Pausing, she began to rinse the vegetables.

"And?" he prompted.

"She wasn't alone," Grell admitted, "I saw her talking to someone from Upper Management, and this guy is dangerous. Do you know Robert Collins?"

"I've never met him," William answered, "although I have heard his name."

"Well, I've met him," she said, "and I'm not precisely one of his favorites." Filling the pot with water, she put in a large stew bone before moving it onto the stove. "He was able to spot me even in disguise, or at least his cat, Virgil, was able to, and they chased me to Undertaker's. I was able to hide in the subbasement though, but I heard him talking." She turned to face William directly, and for the first time, she truly looked scared. "He says he knows we're in the area, and I know this guy won't stop until he finds us. If he finds you, he'll kill you, Will. What should we do?"

He had never seen her look so concerned, and it touched him. "What do you mean?" he asked, "Are you thinking I should turn myself in now?"

"Of course not!" she cried, "but do you think we should go somewhere else. He says he knows we're in the area. Maybe we should move farther away."

"Where would we go?" he asked, but then he sighed softly. "If we start running, we'll only keep running. If you think there's some way to destroy this demon, we should stay in one place and search for a method. I'll put up a shield over the house, and we'll leave if we need to, but for now we'll stay."

"I suppose," Grell agreed, reluctantly, "but you should know one thing. If Collins comes after you, I will kill him. Don't even try to stop me."

With a jerky anger to her movements, she started to chop up vegetables, and William knew there was no use in arguing with her. Leaving her alone to cook, he set up putting a celestial barrier. While it wouldn't do much to keep out other reapers, it would alert them if anyone crossed the barrier and give some extra time for escape. Of course, he wasn't even sure he would try to escape. He would gladly turn himself in to protect Grell.

 

((x))

 

Emily sat quietly in darkened room in the dwindling light of the fading sun. The cheap room didn't look as shabby or disheveled in the shadows, but the tattered surroundings suited her state of mind. She held a small picture of Ronald in her trembling hands, and she had to choke back tears as she gently touched his face. In her mind, she could hear his easy laugh and feel the gentle touch of his hand. It was wrong he had been taken away from her so brutally, and she planned to do all she could to punish those responsible.

"We came close to catching, Sutcliff today," Collin said as he walked into the room. 

"Close isn't good enough!" she snapped, "Sutcliff and Mr. Spears have to pay for what they've done, and I will make sure they do."

He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Hold on to that rage," he instructed, "It will serve us well. Are you ready for the shot?"

"Of course," she answered simply, as she held up her bared arm.

It was a simple procedure which caused little to no pain, but Emily no longer cared. She welcomed any pain as an old friend that helped her carry on through her days.

"Now, I'll be able to find you wherever you go," Collins said, "This should have been done long ago with all reapers, but I see it was up to me to make sure it will be done now." Still talking to himself, he left the room, but Emily didn't watch him. She continued to look at her picture and silently promise Ronald that she would do what had to be done.

 

((x))

 

The fire danced and crackled before them as they listened to the silence of the autumn night. Since going to town, Grell's moods had been rapidly switching. There were times she was unusually quiet, such as she was now, but that would quickly give way to nervous talking and even ranting. William understood for even he didn't feel entirely comfortable sitting here even beneath the barrier, but he had been honest when he had said he didn't want to start running. Their focus had to be on the demon, although he had yet to find any answers in the old books. He only hoped there was an answer to be found.

He looked over at Grell who was sitting on the floor beside him. "That was a very good stew," he said, "I didn't know you could cook."

She laughed. "I learned how for you," she replied, "I wanted to be the perfect wife for you one day."

"Oh," he managed in a nervous tone as he was unsure what to say to that.

"It's good that we've been so honest and talked so much," she said, happily, "I feel like I'm really getting to know you for the first time."

He took a deep breath. 'There is one thing I haven't told you yet."

"What's that?"

"Well, we've been honest with each other, but there's one more story I need to tell you, and I think this is important." He cleared his throat before starting. "It's why not having a son was my regret from life. She sat up suddenly and leaned closer, and he almost smiled at her eagerness. "I had a brother," he began, "His name was Martin, but he died before I was born. My parents didn't even think they'd have another child, but then I was born."

"So you were like a miracle child?" she asked, "Your parents' second chance?"

"In a way," he answered, "but it was more like they wanted their first son back, and I was no replacement." Pausing, he stared at the fire as searching for answers. "Nothing I ever did was good enough," he said, "I was always compared to Martin, and I always came up short. After some time, I quit trying. I knew I would only fail anyway."

"Oh, Will," she said, "I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, but I do need to tell you this. Time passed, and I became used to being a disappointment to my parents. I took a job in my father's bank, just as Martin had, but then I was pressured to get married. Another family of similar status had a daughter they wanted to be married, and my father thought we would be a good match. I had no real interest in marrying her, but then I realized I could succeed in the one area my brother had failed."

He turned towards her and their faces were almost touching. "My brother had died before he married or had any children, and my father wanted a grandson to carry on the family name. If I could father a son, I wouldn't be a disappointment. I would be the son they always wanted and not my brother. I did love the girl, but we married in a simple ceremony and started life together. After about a year, Mary, that was her name, announced she was expecting. She was far more excited than I was, but I thought things were finally going to work out for me."

"What happened?"

"Mary lost the baby," he answered simply, "It wasn't anyone's fault. It just happened. Of course, she was upset, but I couldn't be there to comfort her. I was too wrapped up in my own feelings of failing once again, and I didn't even see that she needed me. It was a scandal at the time, but she left to go back to her parents. No doubt, they would have talked her into coming back had I given her any time, but I had simply had enough." He had never admitted all this out loud before, and he was shocked by all the emotions he had been holding back all this time. "I realized I would forever be in Martin's shadow. Even if I had fathered a son, I would have still heard how my son wasn't as good as a son my brother might have had if he had lived. I was just tired of it, so I finally decided to escape. Of course, I didn't escape since I wound up here, but at least everyone refers to me as Spears or William rather than Martin's brother." A single tear finally escaped his eye.

Grell gently wiped the tear away. "Your brother could never have been half the man you are," she said confidently.

William managed a smile, but then he noticed the way the firelight danced on her skin, highlighting her features and resting on her lips like a flickering shade of lipstick. They were so close, and he realized they were moving closer by the second. They had talked and revealed their truth selves to one another for the first time. There was nothing between them now.

 _"Except your need to ravage her,"_ a tiny voice whispered in his head.

William jerked back suddenly at the acidic voice, and he knew it was the demon. It was warping his wants and desires, so it would be unfair to kiss her now no matter how tempting she looked at this moment. "It's late," he said, "We should get some rest."

He turned away quickly, but he couldn't erase the image of hurt and confusion he had clearly seen on her face.


	8. Chapter 8

The room was brightly lit from a series of massive windows that let the realm's false sunlight pour inside. Instead of making a space where all was revealed, however, it created shadows and darkness in those few spots where the light could not touch; places where secrets could hide. Collins sat quietly as he allowed his eyes to scan the other men at the table. They all looked alike with their black suits, well groomed hair, and somber expressions, but he knew their minds were all very different. They brought their own opinion to this meeting which clung to their forms like cheap cologne. The collective smell was a foul stench, but there was a way to change and warp opinions so that they all had the same scent. He had been patient and waited, but it appeared as if his time was almost at hand.

Mumbles rippled about the room as the situation was discussed in hushed tones, but Collins only sat and waited. One of the men, a Mr. Perkins by name, cleared his throat loudly and the whispered conversations slowly began to diminish. "Gentleman," he said, "We have to discuss this current situation. The issue of deserters is only growing, and now we have this situation with Spears. He's killed a total of four reapers and has apparently convinced Sutcliff to join him."

Someone snorted. "I doubt Sutcliff was that hard to convince," a soft tone stated which prompted a few laughs.

Perkins narrowed his eyes which ended the laughter. "This is serious," he chastised, "Out of control reapers can cause a serious disruption in the balance of things, and Spears might be the worst since the deserter who's name we had stricken from the records. Now, Collins has asked to say a few words to all of you."

Collins stood up and waited for all eyes to fall on him. "Sirs," he said, "The situation we now face is a dire one. Agents are searching for Spears and Sutcliff as we speak, but without any luck. Our hope now is that they may be captured quietly and before they can do any harm." He paused briefly as he slowly started to circle the table. "However, this situation could have been avoided."

"Wait a second, Collins," a blonde man said, "Are you talking about your chipping program again?"

"I am," Collins answered, "I suggested it to the board some years back, but my proposal was turned down."

"Because it seemed unreasonably invasive," Perkins said, "Putting chips inside of agents' bodies so we can monitor their every move?" He shook his head and adjusted his glasses. "We are all prisoners here, but I don't think the answer is to treat all the agents as if they are nothing more than dogs to be collared." 

Collins smiled dryly. "What is more unreasonable?" he asked, "To put small, harmless devices inside of agents that could provide protection in case one goes rogue, or to let situations like this with Spears go unchecked? If Spears had been chipped, he would have already been discovered and stopped. Sutcliff wouldn't have even had a chance to be persuaded. We wouldn't even need this discussion.

There was another wave of hushed talk, and Collins could tell he had made some headway with this group. After a few minutes, Perkins raised his hand to silence the group. "You have made some excellent points, Collins," he said, "Please allow us some time to discuss this matter."

"Thank you," Collins said with mock humility," I will return to my office in the meantime." He nodded politely and walked confidently out of the boardroom. Even in the hall, he didn't dare drop his act. He would have loved to fall against the door laughing as he though of the most creative curse words for those fools inside, but he had to keep up his image. He politely smiled and acknowledge people until he made it back to his large, well furnished office.

Even before he had shut the door, a slender, blonde man approached. "How did the meeting go, Mr. Collins?" he asked. He held a pen and paper in this tight, nervous grasp and seemed prepared to take any necessary notes.

"It went well, Bishop," Collins said, "Not perfect. i still think there's some resistance, but it will be hard to deny the genius of chipping all reapers. Besides, any that will resist will reveal themselves to be enemies and must be eliminated. They can not exist in our new reality."

"Yes, sir," Bishop readily agreed for he had heard all this before, "Do you need anything sir?"

"I am fine for now," Collins said, "And I do have something that should be done right away. I need to visit Spectacles." 

"Are you having a problem with your glasses, sir?" Bishop asked, but Collins didn't take the time to answer.

Leaving his assistant behind, Collins emerged from his office and walked down the hall with exaggerated bravado, but the smile on his face was anything but exaggerated. Everything was falling into place, just like the old prophesy had mentioned. Things were changing in their realm to make way for New Death, even if that meant getting rid of interlopers like Spears and Sutcliff.

Perhaps even Anderson.

 

((x))

 

William had been awake for some time, but he simply lay on the bed as he studied the ceiling. It wasn't like him to lie around and be hesitant, but so much had happened in a short period of time. He had often heard people say that certain events felt unreal as if it had been nothing more than a dream, but this was no dream. It was a nightmare from which he couldn't wake. It was so easy for him to look back into his memory and remember who he used to be. Just a short time ago, he had been a normal supervisor with a tenuous control over his subordinates. He had been stressed, but he had a certain understanding as to how the world around him worked. Now, he was lying in a strange bed in a strange house. He was a deserter and a rule breaker. He had become a murderer. If there was anyway it was possible, he would turn back the clock to try and stop any of this from ever happening.

Lying in bed wasn't going to change anything, so William got up to face the day. Grell had located some of Baron Barnett's clothes for him to wear. While Grell had complained the outfits were, in her words, "horribly out of style,' they fit William well enough and were clean. That's all William really cared about when it came to attire. Carefully he combed his hair before examining himself in the mirror. Overall, his look was acceptable, but he took time to touch the tiny, gold collar about his neck. It was such a small device, and invisible to human eyes, but that was the only thing keeping that demon under control. It still whispered to William; dancing through his dreams and the darker recesses of his mind, but it could do little more than annoy him for now. Seeing that he was ready, he left the room where he immediately encountered a delicious which he followed to the kitchen.

Grell was cooking, and William stood in the doorway for a minute to watch her work. Her beautiful hair had been tied in a long braid, and she was wearing a red robe over her pajamas. Despite her not being dressed, he could tell she had taken the time to put her makeup, which he found curious. He had seen her without makeup before, and she looked perfectly fine to him. She was humming a somewhat happy tune before turning around to see William standing there.

"Will, darling," she said, "I had no idea you were there, but I'm glad you're up. I thought you were going to sleep the day away. Come on in and sit down. I'm going to make us a nice Sunday Roast even if it is only Wednesday." She laughed at her own joke.

He didn't laugh with her. She was rambling a bit, and he wondered if that was covering up some other emotion. They hadn't spoken since there near kiss the night before, and he had expected Grell to bring that up immediately. The fact she didn't actually only made things more awkward for him. It would be far easier to discus the matter if she would just say something, but she seemed to be in no hurry. William sat down and watched her work for some time; marveling that she was quite talented in the kitchen. She resumed humming as she set about making what appeared to be some sort of pie he suspected would be there desert, and paused when some flour got her small, round glasses. She had given up her reaper glasses upon deserting, but she had returned to wearing the glasses she had used in the past, which puzzled him. There didn't seem to be a point.

"May I ask you a question?" William asked.

"Besides that one?" Grell returned with a smile. "Sure, darling. Ask away."

"Why are you still wearing glasses?" he questioned. It wasn't what he wanted to ask, but at least it was the start to a conversation. "I've always heard that our eyes return to normal after deserting, and I know that I can see fine now. I was just curious as to why you still choose to wear them."

"Oh, my  eyesight has always been positively wretched," she answered quickly, "I think I could see better after I became a reaper, and these old things only help so much. It's a tragedy, but my beautiful eyes have always been hidden behind a pair of lenses."

He nodded. "That makes sense," he said. Not being able to think of anything else today, he lapsed into silence while she cooked. She acted as if she was happy and serene, but even he could tell the uneasiness that lurked beneath her trembling smile, and he suspected it had something to do with what had almost happened the night. This had to be addressed, no matter how awkward. He reached up to adjust the glasses he no longer wore as he sought to frame his thoughts.

"Grell, we need to talk," he finally said.

"About what?" she said, as she looked inside the oven. "Won't be long," she muttered, mostly to herself.

"About last night," he answered, "About what happened or what almost happened. There are things that need to be clarified."

Grell laughed. "Don't trouble yourself about that, darling, I understand what happened perfectly."

"I'm not sure you do," he said, "It is a complicated situation."

"There's nothing complicated about it," she returned, and he noted the edge in her voice. "You're stressed and upset. You almost forgot yourself. That's all." She turned away suddenly as if she was afraid to face him directly.

"Yes it is," he said, as he stood up and walked over to her. "There's a lot more to it." He paused as he sought for the words. "It's the demon," he finally managed.

"The demon made you act like you were going to kiss me?"

"Yes. No. It's difficult to explain," he answered, "The demon doesn't seem to be able to control my actions anymore, but it still puts thoughts in my head. It twists my emotions and feelings. It warps desires."

She turned her head slowly so that their eyes meet. "If it can warp a desire," she said, "then the desire had to be there beforehand."

Although he had never considered this before, he knew that she was right. "I suppose," he admitted.

"Do you want to kiss me, Will?" she asked, putting her hands on his upper arms and bringing her face close to his.

Instead of answering verbally, he leaned forward to bring his lips to hers. To an outsider, this kiss wouldn't have appeared like anything special. There weren't in some romantic location, nor was their kiss particularly long or passionate. In fact, it was almost chaste, but it was unlike anything he had ever experienced. It was as if this moment had been fated to happen and their kiss was simply harmonious and fated. He moved away, but her hands were still on their arms.

She was delightfully flushed and even giggled slightly. "I like the way you answer a lady's question," she said.

For once, the demon was silent as he stood there looking down into her smiling face. "I thought you deserved a direct answer," he said. "It's been a long time coming."

She laughed again, but she let go of his arms to move towards the oven. "Let me take care of this," she said, "I think you have a lot more questions to 'answer.'"

 

((x))

 

Emily sat on the floor in the nearly bare room as she looked over the documents spread all around her. Collins had gotten her more files, but there was still so little information. Sutcliff had more haunts in the living realm than William, but all of them had turned out to be dead ends so far. She knew she had to do this, but she was feeling more and more like a failure with each passing day. She couldn't even provide justice for the one man she had truly loved.

And Ronald was watching her.

She had started seeing the day before; sitting silently in a warped chair in the corner of the room. The rational part of her mind knew that it couldn't be him. Ronald was dead and buried. His body had been disfigured and his soul stolen from him brutally, yet she still talked to the apparition in the corner. It comforted her and gave her strength. Her beloved was watching and waiting for her to gain vengeance, and that's what she planned to do. This silent version of Ronald only watched, and he never smiled. She had to do all she could to see his smile one more time.

The air around her grew thick, and she knew before turning that Collins had created a portal into the room. She turned slightly to look at him, but was slightly disappointed. Ronald had left when Collins had arrived. "Any news?" she asked.

"Great news," Collins replied, petting Virgil who set perched in his arms, "The rest of Upper Management have agreed to start my chipping program. This sort of thing will never happen again."

"But that doesn't help us now," Emily said, "I've gone through all of this, and I still have nothing."

"I may be able to help you with that," stated Collins, "I've talked to Anderson in Spectacles. He was far more stubborn than he should have been in the matter, but he's now working on glasses with a special lens that will allow you to see through glamours and illusions. No matter how Sutcliff is disguised, you'll be able to recognize that freak."

"What about Spears?"

"It's doubtful he will even attempt to create an illusion," Collins said, "He was never very good at it. Barely passed from what I understand." He laughed bitterly. "Would you believe those fools in Management actually wanted to promote him once? Thankfully, they came to their senses."

"But I will be able to see him with these glasses if he does try to make a disguise?" she asked.

"Of course," Collins answered, "I'm not sure when the glasses will be ready. I'll have to keep an eye on Anderson to make sure he works diligently on this new project." He seemed to be talking more to himself, but then he shook his head. "I'll also leave you, Virgil. He'll be able to identify them. We're also searching to see if there's any more information that might give them a clue as to their whereabouts." The cat jumped from Collins' arms and landed delicately on the floor where it regarded Emily with his dual colored eyes.

"I just need to find them," Emily said, "Then, I will make sure they can never do this again."

"They will be stopped," agreed Collins, "I will be returning back to the office to make sure everyone is doing their job. I have a feeling there will be a lot of vacancies soon, but sacrifices must be made in the name of greatness."

Collins created a portal and left as quickly as he appeared, and Emily was thankful. She didn't particularly like the man and his bizarre talk, but his help was necessary for now. He would help her in her quest for her dearest Ronald.

Now that Collins had left, Ronald had returned to his spot. He still wasn't moving or smiling, but he had begun to cry great tears of blood.

 

((x))

 

Grell hadn't been expecting any visitors when Rosalind pecked on the window, but she was thrilled to see the familiar pigeon. Happily, she opened the window, but found the bird was loaded down with a letter and a small bag. She untied the items, and Rosalind immediately went in to locate William. To Grell's confusion, the bag contained money, so she quickly read the letter from Pops to see if it provided any information.

 

_Collins is causing quite an issue in our realm and using this incident to push his agendas. I fear for the future. I am under surveillance, so this will be my last letter for some time. I'm not sure how long. Keep Rosalind with you to keep her safe. I've sent along some money as I know you are no doubt running low, but I'm not sure when or even if I can send you any more help. Emily is the only one actively looking for you as Collins is busy with other affairs, but even she can be dangerous given the right tools. I have been forced to create glasses that can see through glamours. I am stalling, but I can't do so for much longer. Stay safe. If you are captured and the demon is released, we will all be in danger._

_Pops_

 

William walked into the room with Rosalind happily perched on his shoulder. "Another letter from Pops?" he asked.

Grell nodded and handed the note to him. His face darkened as he read it, and she could tell there was a lot going through his mind. "I think there's so much more going on than we're being told," William said, "and I don't like that."

"What do you want to do?" Grell asked.

"I'm not sure what we should do," he admitted, "I know we're supposed to lay low, but I hate doing nothing. Plus, we do have this money situation. While it's impossible for us to starve to death, we do not want to go hungry and leave ourselves susceptible. We will have to take action is our financial situation appears that it's going to be an issue.

"Perhaps we can get jobs," Grell said. Stepping closer to William, she laid her head on his shoulder opposite of Rosalind, and he didn't move away. Although their situation was still bleak, Grell felt comforted standing by William's side and him not pushing her away. This is what she had been waiting on for over a century. "We'll figure out something," she added, "I know it."

 


	9. Chapter 9

The sun rose high in the blue expanse of the sky; signifying that noon was upon them, but it was only a sign to William that he had failed. He kept his face emotionless, and his steps were as solid as ever, but he could feel himself crumbling on the inside. Early this morning he had decided to check their finances and supplies only to find both were dangerously low. Grell hadn't been as frugal as she should have been with her shopping, but William couldn't really blame her. In their realm, food and basic shelter were provided for them. Their salaries could be spent on wants and desires rather than needs. Besides, Grell probably expected that Pops would be able to help them more. No one could have expected Collins to pick this moment to cause trouble, although, he realized he had inadvertently lied to Grell. He had crossed paths with Collins once in the past, although he had all but forgotten it.

William shook his head to clear his thoughts as he walked. He had left a simple note for Grell and had set out this morning to find a job. He knew work was scarce, but he was a responsible, educated man. He had thought that he would be able to find work so that he could supplement their income to help with the food issue, but he had been unsuccessful. Each person he had inquired about work had looked at him with mistrusting eyes and had told him that they had no work for him. He was sure that his appearance wasn't an issue. He had chosen a dark blue suit from the closet that he assumed belonged to Madam Red's late husband. Although Grell had said these clothes were out of style, William still felt his appearance was respectful and appropriate. He had combed his hair in usual style as well, and he hadn't bothered to disguise his appearance. Unlike Grell, his own looks were rather commonplace, so it was easier to simply hide in plain sight. The demonic restraint collar hummed about his neck, but it was naked to the mortal eye. The distrust he saw in people's eyes was because they thought he was an outsider. He had been born and raised in London, but it had been a long time since he had walked these streets as a native. With no family or friends to call on, he was an interloper and an alien. The simple truth was that in these hard times, people simply didn't trust someone they thought wasn't one of them.

He had walked to the outskirts of town when his keen ears overheard an argument from a nearby cemetery. Curious, he walked over to the iron gate to check out the situation. A tall man dressed impeccably in fashionable clothes was arguing with what William assumed to be an undertaker by his clothes. Even at this distance, he could tell that this mortician was purely a mortal. He had probably been a rival of the reaper deserter or had held the position for many years.

"He simply must be buried today," the tall man said. He was holding a handkerchief in front of his face as if trying to ward off some foul odor. "He simply must. It's too warm to store the body."

The strange undertaker smiled, which revealed his blackened, decaying teeth. "I love ta help ye," he said, "but ye see me bones are jus' too weary an' tired. Perhaps ye can get someone else?" His dark eyes sparkled from the rolls of flesh on his yellowed face.

"There is no one else!" cried the man, "You know my circumstances. If it is a matter of coin, then I can pay you well." The distress was painted clearly on his fair features as his dark hair danced about his head with his actions. The desperation was rolling off him in waves, and William was sure the undertaker was practically bathing in it. The man produced his purse and the clanging of coins sang of his wealth.

The old man laughed lightly, and the sound was like that of wind blowing through rotten, decaying leaves. "As much as I like yer money," he said, "It's not a matter of price. I'm just not as spry as I once was. Now, if I had me some help."

"I'll help," William said, as he stepped inside the cemetery. He approached the two quickly, but soon found himself assaulted by a stench that could only be coming from the bounder. That explained the young man's handkerchief, but William didn't blink. "I would be happy to help," he repeated to the old man, "for pay of course. In fact, I would feel it's a safe assumption this is not the only body you have that needs to be buried. It would be profitable for you to hire someone to help with the physical labor."

The old man looked William up and down and chuckled. The few strands of dirty, grey hair that remained moved about his head like a soiled halo as he scratched his scarred chin as if in deep thought. "Yer not a laborer," he said, "and I'd bet the hands in those gloves be lily white, but I know a desperate man when I sees one." He tossed the shovel he had been leaning on towards William. "Dig a grave here and let me see how desperate. Perhaps we can arrange a deal."

William got the shovel easily, and removed his jacket, which he draped over a nearby tombstone. He began digging a grave where the old man had indicated. While his appearance was that of a common man, his strength and speed were beyond that of mortals, and he didn't hold back as he quickly dug the grave. The young man's eyes bulged in shock, but the undertaker only wheezed and laughed.

"Yer got speed and strength," he said, "and I could use both."

"What about my pay?" William asked, as he gathered his jacket.

"Fer that?" asked the old man, "That was jist a test, and ye passed. I suspect ye be lookin' fer a job. Am I right?"

"Perhaps."

The old man nodded. "And yer no laborer, but ye can dig a grave as good as any man. I'd like to hire ye. As ye guessed, I have many poor blokes that need to be put in the ground before they go bad."

William would have preferred to work for anyone else, but he did need the work. "What about salary?"

"Well, this be simple work. How about 10 shillings a week fer a start?"

It was robbery, but William could read the old man well enough to know that this was as probably as good as he was going to manage. Those dark eyes were those of a predator that could pinpoint weaknesses. Despite William being able to hide his fears from most, the old man could tell he was desperate. "I suppose that will be acceptable."

"The name's Samuel Harris," he said; smiling broadly so that the smell of decay was evident. "I also have a little cottage at the back of cemetery here if ye need a place. I could let ye rent it for, say, 5 shillings a week."

"I have a place to stay," William said between clenched teeth. "The job will be enough." This man really was trying to get this work for free, but a job was a job. It would be some money to assist them, and it would help William from feeling so useless while they were forced to hide.

Harris nodded. "Well, as ye guessed, I have more bodies to put under. Might as well get started."

 

((x))

 

Spectacles was unusually quiet. The normal flow of reapers getting their eyes checked or having glasses repaired had dwindled to just a few, and they had made prior appointments. The typical hum and constant activity had slowed, and Anderson knew that it was a bad sign. Something was happening just beyond these walls, and he feared for their entire realm. He wasn't even entirely safe here. Although some mind find it paranoia, he knew that he was being watched. Collins hadn't been here physically since he had requested the special lens and had bragged about his chipping program he was sure would be approved, but his presence still lingered. Word had drifted through the halls like a forgotten ghost that his proposal for chipping had been partially approved. For now it was voluntary, but with incentives like extra pay and vacation time that made it very attractive. Anderson knew what it really meant, but he would only be silenced if he tried to speak. Collins had finally made his move, and it looked as if the realm just might fall under his control.

Just like the prophesy foretold.

Anderson finished the special glasses and set them aside. He had hated creating such things, but at least he had been able to warn William and Grell. Both were smart enough that they should be able to remain hidden even without disguising their appearances though the ancient means. Thankfully, Collins had been so intent on his mission here, he hadn't thought to assign anyone else to their case. Emily was sadly determined, but she still lacked the experience and training to be a good recovery agent. He hoped that Grell and William were safe, and that some method for dealing with the demon would be discovered. Unfortunately, he feared their realm would long be lost long before they even had a chance to save William. So far, he had no idea how that sort of demon had even arrived in this country or why it had attacked a reaper in the first place. There had been little investigation into the matter as most of Upper Management preferred to stick to the story that William had simply gone mad and killed young Knox, but there were a few looking for the truth. So far, nothing of any importance had been discovered.

Standing up, he picked up a nearby glasses case and turned to a coworker. "I'm going to lunch," he said, "If Collins stops by, the glasses he requested are there on my desk. All preliminary tests indicate they should work exactly as he specified." His coworker, a pleasantly plump man who was only a white beard away from being the perfect Santa Claus, nodded in a distracted manner. He was carefully cleaning lenses, and Anderson wasn't even sure if the man had heard him. Of course, it probably didn't matter. Collins most likely already had someone watching his ever move.

Anderson felt exposed and vulnerable as he walked down the halls. It was as if Dispatch was slowly changing; mutating into some foreign beast that wanted to devour him. He had been warned of this day, but he still felt unprepared as he made his way to the desk where William's secretary, Ms. Fletcher sat typing on a form. She looked up at him and smiled, but he could see the exhaustion shimmering in her dual colored irises. A temporary supervisor had been assigned to replace William, but it seemed as if the majority of the work had been placed on her. "Good morning, Mr. Anderson," she said. She was one of the few who didn't refer to him as Pops. "How are you today?"

"I'm doing fine, Ms. Fletcher," he said, "I have the glasses here you needed to be repaired."

"Glasses?" she repeated in a puzzled tone.

"I know you weren't expecting them until tomorrow," he added quickly, "but I was able to get to them early. I was able to fix the lens quickly so that there are no chips. I understand how that can drive you crazy."

He saw the realization slowly dawn on her and she nodded. "Thank you," she said, with the only faintest hint of a smile.

"I also went ahead and repaired you case," he said, "Added some extra lining."

She nodded again. "Thank you, Mr. Anderson."

The transaction completed, Anderson turned and made his way to the cafeteria. is brief meeting with Ms. Fletcher would  have seemed normal enough to anyone who might have observed it, and the glasses inside were her prescription. Even their conversation shouldn't have raised any red flags, but he had gotten his message across. Just before he turned the final corner, he glanced back and watched as Ms. Fletcher put the glasses, case and all, in a drawer. No one would have guessed he had entrusted her with information about William and Grell; information that would be invaluable if something happened to him. Collins was egotistical, and his targets were those in obvious positions of power. He wouldn't think that someone like Ms. Fletcher could cause him any trouble.

And that would be his downfall.

 

((x))

 

The new glasses arrived by pigeon, which had seemingly found Emily without issue where she had been sitting for the last several hours perched on a rooftop. The attached note from Collins stated that these had been especially designed by Anderson so that she could see through any magical disguises those murdering deserters might use, so she had put them on eagerly. To her disappointment, she saw no reapers in the throngs beneath her. In fact, she saw nothing different about these glasses, except the world seemed more devoid of color than before. It was if all the world had been muted and, instead of the usual vibrant colors, the entire scene before had been painted with tones of grey. Perhaps Collins was wrong to trust Pops with this job. He was the most talented at creating their glasses, but she wasn't sure if he was an ally. He seemed so willing to protect Grell's file and reluctant to declare her a deserter.

She sighed as she looked down at the world and found her eyes welling with bitter tears. Below her, she could hear the laughter of young lovers, and it all seemed so unfair. Why should they be able to love and be loved and she couldn't? Everything inside just hurt so badly, and she could see no end in sight. In fact, even Ronald's ghost had abandoned her; whispering the words, "no more," before disappearing like smoke in her dusty room, but she had to keep going. Someone had to pay for all the pain she had endured.

Without warning, Virgil suddenly leaped to his feet as his snow white fur raised in alarm. His hissed and mewled loudly. "What is it?" Emily asked, "Do you know where they're at?"

In response, the cat ran along the rooftop and jumped down. Emily followed and found herself running down a cobblestone street. Soon, the cat stopped and begin to hiss at a door of a small shop. For a brief moment, she felt a surge of hope as she threw open the door and heard the tinkling of a bell. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light, however, her hopes crashed and shattered like a delicate, glass rose.

"Can I help ye?" a voice asked, and a thoroughly unpleasant man stepped forward. From his black robes to the coffins that were scattered about the room, she knew exactly the type of business she had found. "Name's Samuel Harris," he said, "Will ye be needin' my services this fine day?"

"No," she sad, "I made a mistake." The stench of death was nearly overpowering in this small space, and that must have been what confused the cat. She turned to leave; nudging the reluctant cat with her foot.

"Well, I'm here if ye need me," he said, "Just hired a new man today so I can plant twice the bodies now. He's in the back."

"No," she repeated. She shoved Virgil outside and shut the door, but the cat still seemed reluctant to leave. He kept mewling and scratching at the door, but she no longer had any patience. "Come on," she said as she scooped up the agitated cat and headed back towards the small room she had rented. She needed to rest and regroup her thoughts. Right now her head ached and it was hard to think, and she needed to be on top of  her game.

 

((x))

 

The clock in the parlor ticked ominously, as if it was a countdown to some sort of doom, but Grell couldn't seem to keep herself from looking at it every minute. She was growing more worried with each and every movements of those hands despite telling herself everything was okay. When she had awoke this morning, she had found a simple note from William saying he had to do something today but she was not to leave the house. At first, this had seemed like a simple enough task as Grell took the opportunity to thoroughly clean and straighten the house. While she wasn't as orderly and neat as William by nature, she did like to keep a tidy house. She even made sure there would be a good meal for William when he returned.

It wasn't until about noon that Grell became concerned. She had no idea what it was that William felt he had to do, but he had already been gone for a few hours. Despite her nagging fears, she tried to keep herself occupied as time continued to creep by. The sun continued on its path across the sky, and it was just about to dip below the horizon, when she heard the front door open. Inwardly, she exhaled with relief, but her annoyance rose to the surface. She had been just about to go out to search for William despite his instructions, and now she was mad at him for making her worry.

She stomped towards the door and planted her hands on her hips. "Where have you been?" she demanded, "Do you know what time it is?" Her annoyance melted away immediately when she saw the tired look on his handsome face and the slight slump of the normally solid shoulders. "Are you okay, darling?" she asked.

"I'm rather tired at the moment," he said. He took off his shoes to place them by the door, and she noticed the dirt clinging to them as well as how slow and pained his movements appeared.

"What happened?" she asked, "Were you attacked? I was worried."

He shook his head. "I saw that we have very little money or food," he answered simply, "So I decided to get a job." He moved his arms and winced a little. "I was unaware that I had gotten out of shape."

"What sort of job?" she asked.

"I am digging graves for the local undertaker. It seems he's had an increase in business since the departure of another undertaker," he answered, "An unpleasant man by the name of Harris, but at least it is a job."

She wrinkled her nose. "That seems a bit beneath you," she said, "You're a smart, educated man. Surely there's something better out there."

"Unfortunately, there isn't," he answered, "And we needed income." He winced again. "I think I'd like a hot bath."

"I'll go and run the water," she said with a gentle smile, "Rest. I'll heat up the food while you bath." She didn't wait for him to answer before retiring to the bathroom, but she did glance back once. She hated seeing William so tired and almost broken, but there was an odd sense of pride. William was working so hard just to take care of them, so she had to do her best. Maybe this wasn't the married life she had dreamed of William, but this was far better than any dream. He was here with her and they were working together. This was a dream realized, even if the situation was far from perfect.

As William went to take his bath, she heated up the food, which was a bit of their leftover stew with some fresh bread. It was hot and ready by the time William walked back into the kitchen. He was only wearing his pajama pants, and Grell had a moment where she could only stare at his exposed chest glistening from his recent bath. She had always known it was broad, but somehow it was even more than she had imagined in her dreams. Feeling the heat rising in her cheeks, she turned quickly to get him a bowl of stew. "How are you feeling?" she asked, "Any better?"

 "Some," he said, "Excuse my lack of dress. I was just tired. I'll think I'll eat and head to bed soon."

"That's okay," she said, as she handed him a bowl. Again she let her eyes drift to the solid muscles before drifting up to his face. He didn't seem to even notice as he leaned on a counter to eat. "It's odd that you're so tired," she continued, "Do you think the demon is weakening you?"

"Perhaps," he answered, "My own healing abilities are keeping it at bay, so perhaps my normal endurance is compromised." He coughed lightly. "Or perhaps I am simply getting old."

"Never!" she exclaimed, "But it is hard to see you so tired. I'll go out and get a job tomorrow."

"I'd rather you did't."

"But why?" she asked, "Two incomes would help us even more."

"I can blend in," he said. Reaching out he took a strand of her scarlet hair and twirled it in his fingers. "You were made to stand out. Besides, I doubt you could even get a job. I had a difficult time."

"I could try," she pouted, "Besides, I'm just as strong as you."

"I know," he said, "but...I would prefer you to stay here. There's very little I can do, and I feel almost helpless a times simply sitting around and waiting. Let me do something to help us. Let me be useful."

"You're always useful," she said, "but, if you want me to play housewife, I will do my best." She leaned on the counter and watched him as he ate. "Will, what are we exactly?"

He stopped eating; his spoon suspended in midair as he looked at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"We're living here together and helping each other," she explained, "We even shared our first kiss. Are, are we a couple?"

A slow smile took possession of his features. Returning the spoon to his bowl, he reached over and gently pulled her closer to kiss her. It wasn't like their first kiss as it wasn't perfect. Their noses bumped briefly and she could taste the stew on his lips, but still her heart soared. His kisses were so gentle, yet filled with untapped passion. After a minute, he stepped back. 

"I think we're partners," he finally said.

Grell wanted to ask for clarity, but her head was swirling too much with emotion. "This is just like a dream," she finally admitted, "I always fantasized about living with you in a cozy little home as husband and wife. Maybe we're not married and this isn't our house, but it's still far more than I ever really dreamed might happen. I had almost given up."

"I'm sorry I made you wait so long," he said, "but don't let this be your dream. You deserve more than just to hide with a possessed reaper. One day, I might be able to give you what you really deserve."

She couldn't really frame an answer, so they lapsed into silence as he finished eating. "That was good," he said, "and just what I needed."

"It was just leftovers," he said, "Sadly, stew is one of the the things we can make with less funds, but I'll do my best to add some variety and spice to it." He was still rubbing at his shoulders as if in pain, so she added, "Would you like me to rub some lotion on your shoulders?'

"That would be nice," he said, "I do hurt."

"Go on up to bed and lie down," she said, "I'll go get the lotion."

He thanked her and left the room. She took a few minutes to clean the kitchen before gathering the lotion and heading to his bedroom. "Now roll on to your stomach," she said, as she walked into the room but was only greeted by a soft snore. Stepping closer, she saw that he had already fallen asleep on his side. Apparently, he had been more tired than even he had thought.

Slowly, she walked around the bed as she studied his sleeping form. He was a handsome, amazing man, although he seemed blind to these attributes, and that tugged at her heart. She wished that for just one minute, he could see himself the way that she saw him. After a minute, she set the lotion and her glasses on a nearby stand and quietly climbed into the bed beside him. He didn't even stir as she lay down and gently touched his face. Snuggling close, she closed her eyes and started to drift off to sleep.

"Goodnight," she whispered, "sweet William."

 

((x))

 

In the middle of the reaper realm, a giant clock struck midnight, although most were asleep. Those who had assignments had already left for the human world, but the offices were mostly quiet and empty. Hallways stretched in the gloom and shadows; lingering like tunnels that led only to darkness. Silence hung like a banner and this world felt as dead as its occupants.

Collins, however, felt very much alive.

He stood in his office by the massive window that overlooked the realm with a satisfied smile painted on his face. It was all finally happening. The door to his office opened, and he glanced up in the reflective glass of the window only to see Bishop walking into the room carrying several files. "Are those the latest reapers to submit to the program?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," Bishop answered, "It seems like it's going well."

"Very well" Collins agreed, "I now have enough for my army." He turned away from the window with a broad smile. "Emily's a sweet girl, but she's not a serious recovery agent even with Virgil's help. No, Bishop, we need an army of our finest reapers to hunt out these deserters and destroy them. This will be our priority. A few souls may be lost to demons in the meantime, but that will be the fault of the deserters. We'll flush them out."

"Of course, sir."

"One more thing, Bishop," Collins said, as he turned back to the window, "Set up the paperwork to arrest Anderson. I know he's hiding something. He's probably loyal to those traitors, and we don't need anyone like that in our new kingdom."

Bishop agreed meekly before leaving. Collins's smile only grew as he stared out into the night and scratched at his side. "Prepare yourself," he whispered, "For New Death is coming."


	10. Chapter 10

Golden beams of sunlight slipped through the window and coaxed William's eyes to open. He winced and stretched slightly, but soon realized there was a warm body against him. In shock, he looked down at the mass of red hair spilling across the bed and Grell's sleeping face. Normally, he would have been upset because he didn't like when anyone got too close, especially without his permission, but she looked so peaceful. Her makeup had been scrubbed away, and there was just the slightest dusting of freckles across her nose. He resisted the urge to kiss those freckles as he pushed aside a few strands of hair just to watch her sleep. She hadn't bothered putting on nightclothes, but somehow the loose shirt and pants she was wearing gave her the look of innocence.

He wasn't sure how long he had been watching, when her own eyelids began to open and she yawned. "Good morning," he said.

She jumped slightly in alarm. "Will!" she gasped. Looking down she saw that she was lying in his bed. "I thought I'd wake up before you," she admitted, "I'm sorry."

"I'm not," he said softly. He felt warmer, softer lying by her side somehow, which prompted him to do something he had only thought of before. Leaning forward, he gently kissed the freckles that dotted her nose. She made a soft noise in surprise before smiling up at him.

"Will?" she asked as she looked into his eyes.

He returned the smile before leaning forward to kiss her mouth tenderly. Her lips felt so soft and warm beneath his own that he never wanted to move away. His heart began to speed up as her hands came up to his chest. Her fingers were soft and her touch as soft as the fluttering of a bird's wing, but he took hold of one to push it tighter against his chest; against his heart. 

Time ceased to exist as only the existed in that moment. William stopped kissing her for a moment to lean back to just to look into face. Her cheeks were flushed slightly and her eyes were sparkling brilliantly. He had never seen anyone look so beautiful. Their situation was far from ideal, but he had been feeling lost and almost helpless for too long. He needed this connection with someone he knew he had loved for a very long time even if he had never admitted those words aloud. In fact, it was time to tell the truth.

Stroking her face, he never broke eye contact. "I love you," he whispered, and her eyes widened in surprise. "I always have." Rolling over so that his body was slightly covering hers, he kissed her mouth before moving to her long, graceful neck. It had been his own fantasy to kiss her beautiful neck, and he was not disappointed. She smelt slightly of  lilac perfume and clean soap, and she was very receptive to his kisses. Her breathing had increased almost imperceptibly as she brought her arms around his back; scratching him slightly with her nails. He moved back just enough to undo the buttons on her shirt and rub his hands across her own chest. She was slender, but he could feel her muscles beneath the skin. At first glance, she seemed so fragile, but he witnessed the strength she possessed of body and spirit. Leaning forward, he resumed the kiss as he moved against her legs; his growing arousal evident. He needed her.

Without warning, she suddenly planted both of her palms against his chest and pushed him away. "I haven't even put on any breakfast," she said, "You'll need to eat before you go to work." She scooted across bed, away from him, and disappeared out of the bedroom door so quickly, he could have thought what had occurred between them was nothing more than a vivid dream.

He rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling for a moment. Perhaps this had been nothing more than a dream on his part. He had grown closer to Grell, but maybe she hadn't been as honest as he he had assumed. Maybe this was nothing more than a game with her. He shook his head; wanting to deny the possibility, as he stood up and started to get dressed. The more he thought about it, however, the angrier he became. Perhaps Grell had been using him for her own amusement. By the time he dressed and walked into the kitchen, he was seething.

"I haven't had time to cook anything," Grell said when he walked into the room. Other than looking slightly flushed and embarrassed, she seemed fairly normal, and this only made William more enraged.

"Don't bother," he replied, as he grabbed an apple out of a nearby bowl. It was the last they had, and normally he would have asked if she wanted it, but he no longer felt like being considerate. "I wouldn't want you to put you out." 

She gasped slightly, but he turned away and took an almost savage bite of the apple. He didn't want to hear her explanations or give her a chance to spin some sort of tale. Most of all, he didn't want to see the tears he had glimpsed forming in her eyes.

 

((x))

 

They walked in unison; their steps in perfect rhythm so it sounded like one creature with many feet approaching instead of a group. Anderson kept his head down and continued his delicate work, but he could hear the gasps and whispers between the footsteps. Work around him ceased as the steps grew louder and closer until pausing just in front of his desk.  
  
"Lawrence Anderson," Collins announced in a triumphant tone, "Stand up. You have been accused of a most grievous crime and are to be placed under arrest during our investigation."

With deliberate slowness, Anderson looked up from his work to gaze up at the face looming over him. There was no question about even attempting to run considering the number of men Collins had with him, and Anderson didn't really think that was an option anyhow. He had to play his part for now for the sake of all their futures. He set aside the glasses and stood up, as he had been commanded. Two of the men, who looked like carbon copies of one another with the their same dark hair that was cut close to their scalps, stepped forward to place handcuffs on his wrists. These weren't powerful handcuffs, but these chains would be more obvious at a distance. It seemed that Collins wanted to make sure others knew of this arrest.

As a group, they turned and starting marching towards the prison, but Collins didn't take the most direct route. He led him out the door and into the main hall of Dispatch. There were stares and whispers, and Anderson knew that Collins was using this as an example of what happened to those who stood against his will. People peeked out of offices to watch them, and he hoped that word would soon get back to Miss Fletcher. Her corporation was crucial now.  
  
Onward they marched into the city and towards the accursed prison. Anderson had been here before but never as a prisoner, and these circumstances were less than ideal. He had no idea what awaited him inside the bars as they continued inside. They walked down several hallways before pausing before a cell that looked little bigger than a closet. The door was opened, and Anderson walked inside without being instructed to do so. One of the guards waved his hand to reengage the shield before turning to leave. His comrades went with him, so that only Anderson and Collins remained. 

"Aren't you concerned with which crime you have been accused?" Collins finally asked.

"I'm not sure it makes a difference," Anderson replied.

Collins laughed mockingly. "It would if you were innocent, although we both are well aware of your guilt. You have been accused of aiding wanted criminals and helping them to avoid capture. Do you deny this?"

"I don't see how I could have done such a thing as I haven't left our realm," he said, "Furthermore, I did send a recovery agent after the wanted reaper, which is precisely what I was instructed to do."

"You knew very well Sutcliff would never turn in Spears," stated Collins.

"I knew no such thing for certain," he said, "Sutcliff was the best available agent, and has shown herself to be increasingly reliable."

"I doubt that very much," Collins sneered, "but that is of little issue now. I'm assembling an army that will find them and bring the two to justice. All those who defy me, must be dwelt with swiftly so I can take my rightful place."

Anderson made firm eye contact with the man. "Because of the prophesy?" he asked.

Surprise flitted across Collins's features. "Yes," he admitted, "Although I'm surprised you know of it. Of course, you are one of the oldest in our realm. Honestly, it's a bit disturbing you have yet to be redeemed." He paused as he took a step back. "The prophesy says that a reaper will rise up to become New Death; a ruler that will lead all reapers into the future and bring forth new life. That reaper is me. It was determined the moment I got this promotion, but now I see it's time for me to take my stand. We have reapers who would kill one another, and they must be dealt with." He smiled broadly. "And you will be one of my soldiers."

As if on cue, a short, pale reaper with brown hair stepped forward with a large needle. "I think it is time you to be chipped," Collins said.

Although his heart beat faster, Anderson did his best not to show any fear. "I thought that was voluntary," he remarked.

"For most it is," Collins agreed, "and it still is for you, but in a different sense. You see, there are two chips. This one won't change who you are in the least. It will only let us know where you are at at all times, and it will monitor thoughts so we will know if someone might become a danger. No you won't notice it." He stepped closer to bars as he allowed his voice to drop slightly. "But, there is another chip. It's far more controlling, and it's been known to completely destroy the mind after some time. You still have some purpose to me, but not for much longer. I'm sure you're ancient brain would handle it for a short time, and then you'll simply be discarded like trash." His laugh that followed was low and sinister.

"So, that is my choice?" asked Anderson.

Collins nodded. "I'll let you sleep on it tonight," he said, "but I'd really recommend the smaller chip if I were you." Still laughing, he exited down the hall leaving Anderson completely alone with this thoughts.

 

((x))

 

Grell had sworn she would never let anyone drive her to tears again, but she cried quietly in the kitchen after William had left. She had wanted him, and had genuinely enjoyed his kisses, but had gotten scared at the last minute. In truth, it was farther than she had ever gone with anyone, and a part of her wished she had been so afraid, but now she felt utterly rejected. William had gotten so mad, and he'd probably never want to touch her again even though they had grown so close recently.

As the day began to pass, her tears dried up as anger overtook her emotions. She had waited for William after all, and suddenly he didn't want her because she had stopped him. That didn't seem fair in the least, and she jumped from her stool as she wiped her face almost brutally. It didn't do any good to cry about things after all. She needed to take action. With no resolve, she stomped upstairs and returned to her room.

She was running low on makeup as she hadn't thought to pack much extra and that wasn't the sort of thing Pops thought about sending them even when he was able to do so. Instead of taking the time of reapplying everything, she grabbed a clean cloth and washed her face thoroughly. "What's the point of looking your best if no one even cares how you look?" she demanded her reflection.

A soft noise caught her attention, and she turned to see that Rosalind had entered the room and was perched at the head of her bed. "Do you see the point?" she asked the pigeon, who only cocked her head sideways. "Neither do I," Grell continued, as if there had been an answer. "You pigeons mate for life, and that's all I wanted to do. I waited for that man, but now I see that he didn't care. I could have slept with every man I ever saw, and he wouldn't have cared. He might have preferred it for all I know. He certainly didn't wait." She stood up and paced the room a few times. "How dare he make me feel guilty for wanting to wait for him, and I had ever right to turn him down. We've only just gotten to know each other, and he won't even call us a couple yet. He said we're partners."

With her freshly scrubbed face, she continued to vent mostly to herself as she walked back downstairs and prepared dinner in brisk manner before attacking the house. She couldn't help but wonder why she was still playing housewife when it seemed William would have preferred a whore, but she couldn't deny she actually enjoyed keeping everything neat and in order. Besides, it was good to have some outlet for all her restless energy. She ate lunch with no concern for William's whereabouts, although he was undoubtedly hungry at this point, and decided to use her afternoon cleaning and changing linens; starting with William's bed.

It was night before he finally returned, and she had already eaten dinner and was sitting in front of the fire when she heard the front door open and close. Her shoulders stiffened as she heard him walk towards the den, but he only paused in the door wordlessly before walking on towards the kitchen. Apparently he didn't even want to talk to her now, and that was okay with her. It had to be okay, although she would have been lying to herself if she didn't admit that it broke her heart a bit more. She could hear him as he got a plate of food and quietly ate his meal. Bitterness rose in her throat and threatened to spill down her face as she thought that at least her cooking was one way she satisfied him.

After what seemed like an eternity, he walked into the room and stood behind her. She could feel his eyes on the back of her head, but she didn't turn or acknowledge his presence. She was hoping he would at least apologize for the way he had treated her.

"Good night, Grell," he finally said. His voice dripped with forced formality. "Thank you for the food."

She loudly snorted. "You certainly sound thankful," she said with obvious sarcasm, "but you should be since that's the only thing you'll be getting from me."

He made a surprised noise before walking to stand before her. "I don't understand you at all," he said, "I thought I had finally figured you out, but first you toy with my emotions and you're the one who gets angry about it."

"I toyed with your emotions?" she shouted jumped up to stand before him. "You were the one touching me, remember? I let you go farther than anyone else..." Her voice trailed off as emotions choked her throat, and she feared she had already said too much. She turned to leave the room.

"Wait," he said, as he grabbed her arm, "Farther than anyone else? Grell, are you trying to tell me that you've never been with anyone?"

"I told you before," she said, as she turned to face him, "I told you I was a maiden, but you never listened. Probably heard one too many rumors about me, right?"

"I never believe rumors," he answered, "but I honestly didn't know you were being serious."

"Well, I was," she said, "When I was reborn, I was determined to find love and be a good wife. I just had to find someone strong enough to handle me, and I knew that man was you the moment you stood up to me. I know I was a being a terrible fool, but I waited." She shook her head. "A lot of good all that nonsense did me. You don't want me."

He pulled her close to look into her eyes, but she glanced away. She felt she looked dreadful without her makeup, and she didn't want to take a chance of crying in front of him. "I didn't know," he repeated, "and I want you more than anything. I'm the fool for not guessing and trying to push you farther than you felt comfortable. Will you forgive me?"

She felt like melting in his arms, but she didn't want him to see how easily he could manipulate her moods. "Maybe," she stated,"but you're not getting off that easily. You hurt me, my prince, and now you have to show me you're sorry."

A ghost of a smile found its way to his face. "I see," he said, "And how do I do that?"

Sitting down again in front of the fire, she looked up at him. "You'll find a way, I suspect."

He laughed lightly as he sat down beside her and wrapped his arm around his shoulders. "Am I on the right track?"

"I think so," she answered, "There is one thing I do like."

"What's that?"

"Your kisses," she replied, "I could simply get drunk on the nectar of your kisses."

He seemed unfazed by her romantic rhetoric as he turned her face to meet his and comply with her wishes. As always, she could feel the passion of the gentle pressure of his lips upon hers, but he seemed content with this for now. As for her, she felt like she was living out some wild fantasy. She was kissing her beloved in front of a roaring fire and, one day, she would give herself fully to him.

And he was content to wait. 

 

((x))

 

Collins slowly  walked around his house; looking at every detail as if seeing these quarters for the first time. When he had been first promoted, he had been amazed by his house, and felt it was truly a simple of how far he had come, but now it seemed to be lacking somehow. The high ceilings, rich decor, and beautiful floors were nice, but this not fit for a ruler. He would need a palace, and he felt he would have one in the near future, but there were other matters to attend to first. After Anderson was under his control, he would hunt down Spears and destroy him. He was the only wrench in his perfectly oiled plans, although his actions had actually helped Collins to move forward. He took a long drink of scotch, feeling the liquid burn down his throat, as he considered the situation. It seemed almost laughable now that those fools in Upper Management had actually considered William for this position, but at least they had come to their senses.

His tour complete, he started for his own bedroom so he could put on his nightclothes to retire for the night, but he was interrupted by a knock on the door. He frowned slightly, but he assumed that as ruler he would have to grow accustomed to late night visitors seeking his help. Walking boldly, he strode to the door and threw it open in a manner he hoped was regal. He was more than a little disappointed to find that it was only Bishop, although he was surprised to find that this assistant seemed out of breath. "What is the meaning of this, Bishop?" he demanded, "It's late."

"Sir," Bishop gasped, as he pushed his glasses up his narrow nose. "It's Pops. He's gone!"

"What?" roared Collins.

Bishop nodded. "One of the guards went to check earlier and his cell was empty. There was no trace of him, but no one can figure out how he escaped either. He was simply gone."

"That's impossible," Collins mumbled. Pushing past Collins, he walked outside and started towards the prison. "No one just vanishes."

Bishop didn't have a reply as they hurried down the streets. Most everyone else in their realm was asleep, but anyone looking out a window would have seen the two figures almost running through the shadows. Collins wasn't winded by the exertion, but sweat beaded across his forehead as his perfectly styled hair stuck to his skin. Anderson was crucial to his plans.

The guards were gathered all around the cell, but it was just as Bishop had described. The barrier was intact and there was no sign of any hole or disturbance. It look completely pristine, but there was no sign of Anderson. It was as if he had simply disappeared. Collins cursed quietly as he slammed his fist into the wall.

"What should we do, sir?" Bishop asked.

Collins whirled around. "We have to get the army ready. Spears and Sutcliff needs to be found now. Anderson is probably with him."

Everyone followed his orders without question, but Collins still found himself uneasy. His plans were still at the crucial early stages, but he had to be successful. All of the futures depended on him.

 

((x))

 

William knew he was dreaming, although he had never had a lucid dream in the past. Still, he knew that this was a dream as he walked through a garden that looked a lot like his mother had when he had been a boy. It was very vivid though as he could feel the dew on the leaves as he brushed past and smell the sweet fragrance of all the blooms, but he didn't question this as he walked forward until he came to a clearing. There was a table in the middle of the garden, and a dark haired man sat with his back to William as he approached. "Hello," William greeted as he stepped closer to the table.

The man turned around, and William halted in his steps. At fist glance, it appeared that William was looking at himself, but then he realized that this was is brother. "Martin?" he asked.

"You could call me that," returned the man.

"No," William realized, "You're that demon inside me, aren't you?"

"I thought it was time we talked face to face," the demon said, "but feel free to call me Martin if you wish."

"I don't wish to call you anything," William retorted, "I want you out of me."

The demon laughed lowly; contorting Martin's handsome face. "It's not that easy," he said, "I'm a part of you now. We've merged, as you well know, but this could work out the best for both of us. You can't protect the lovely redhead, you know. They will be coming after you. If you were to release me, then I could protect her."

"Never!" William replied, "I'd rather destroy both of us then to give you control."

"I will take control one way or another, William," the creature stated, "so you might want to reconsider this deal. At least this way, you'll have some say in the matter."

"No!" William screamed, and the force of his own scream suddenly jerked him awake. His mother's garden faded as the bedroom came into focus. He sat up on the bed; his breath coming in ragged gasps as he tried to make sense of the dream, but he could still hear the demon's laughter echoing in his head.

The door flew open and Grell came running into the room. "Will, darling," she said, "Are you okay? I heard you scream."

"I'm fine," he said, "I just had a nightmare."

She frowned as she studied his face. "Must have been some nightmare," she mused before leaving the room briefly. She soon returned with a towel to wipe the sweat from his forehead. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes," he said, "I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okay," she said. With a sly smile, she put the towel on a nearby stand, before climbing into bed beside him.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

"I thought I'd help you keep those nightmares away," she answered.

The dream still clung to his mind, and seeing her lying there so vulnerable scared him slightly. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, "I'm not sure you can trust me."

"I trust you," she said, as she arranged herself beneath the covers. "Don't worry, darling. Get some sleep." She closed her eyes serenely, but he saw there was no use arguing with her. Besides, he did appreciate her lying next to him.

"Grell?"

"Hmmm?"

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I love you," he whispered, "And we are a couple."

She opened her eyes lazily as she smiled. "Now, you're truly forgiven," she said. Leaning forward so that her forehead was against his chest. "Goodnight, darling."

"Goodnight," he replied, but it appeared she had already fallen asleep.

Pushing aside all his fears, William relaxed, but he was reluctant to fall asleep. He was afraid the demon was waiting there for him in his nightmares.


	11. Chapter 11

The siren cut through the air like a knife; shattering the peace as if it had been nothing more than a fragile crystal rose. Ms. Fletcher was jerked from her thin sleep violently, and she immediately sat up in bed as she looked towards the window. Seeing nothing, she pulled a thin robe around her body as she got up and walked towards the window.

Lights slashed through the darkness around the prison, and she knew this meant Anderson had escaped. She had suspected he would, but now she feared for his safety. Wrapping the robe tighter about her form as if seeking security in the silk fabric, she turned away from the window as she allowed her gaze to fall upon the case Anderson had given her earlier.

She had understood his warning about how ‘chips’ could drive you crazy. He had been advising her not to get the now voluntary chip, but he hadn’t given her the case merely as a warning. There was something hidden inside, which she could feel when she ran her fingers over the stitched interior. She had no idea what was hidden, but she knew that it was important that she kept it safe.

Using only the small light she always kept burning, she set about making herself some tea since she thought there was little use of trying to go back to sleep. Still, she had no desire to draw any attention to herself or to give any sign that she was awake. There was something dark lurking in the shadows of their; slowly crawling toward the dawn, and she knew that great danger followed.

 

((x))

 

Grell awoke slowly as she savored the warmth and security of William's strong arms wrapped about her. Blinking, she looked up and smiled as she gazed into William's eyes. He had been watching her sleep again, and she sighed as she leaned closer. "This is becoming a habit, darling," she said.

"I suppose," he replied, "Although, it is a rather pleasant way to awaken."

She laughed softly, but more serious thoughts entered her mind. "Did you have any more nightmares?" she asked.

"None," he replied quickly, but she noticed a shadow had slipped over his features. "I slept well, but I probably should get ready. I have a long day of shoveling ahead." He moved away from her; leaving only the warm spot where his body had lain as he walked to the bathroom and shut the door.

"What was it about?" she questioned.

"What was what about?" His voice was muffled but clear.

"Your nightmare," she clarified.

There was a long pause. "It was nothing," he finally said as he stepped out of the bathroom.

"It didn't sound like 'nothing' the way you screamed," she insisted, "Please tell me, Will. Don't leave me out. We shouldn't keep things from each other."

There was another pause as he seemed to consider the matter. "I suppose you're right," he said. Walking over he sat down on the edge of the bed. "Forgive me, Grell, but I'm not used to sharing and being open with anyone. I'm not use to having anyone." With a faint smile, he reached out and took her hand. "But I want to be honest with you." He took a deep breath, and she took this opportunity to play slightly with his tousled hair. He was always so careful to comb it into submission, but she loved the feel of it before he had a chance to tame those dark locks. It was surprisingly soft. "The nightmare was about my brother," he finally said, "Martin, except that it wasn't Martin."

"It was the demon?" Grell asked.

He nodded. "It was just laughing at me in my dream. Letting me know that it's still here inside me and just waiting to get out." He looked her in the eyes as he stroked her face gently. "That scared me," he admitted, "I've fought so hard for control, but I'm afraid that I'll let that thing out and I might do something horrible. I might...I might hurt you."

Placing her hand over the one that stroked her face, she allowed her smile to widen. "No, you won't," she said, "You won't hurt me. I trust you."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Of course it is, darling," she replied, "Someone needs to give you their trust right now, and who better than me?"

"Thank you," he whispered and he leaned forward to kiss her gently. She savored the feel of his lips on her own and she inhaled his scent. There were still times she could scarcely believe that any of this was really happening. It had only been a short time earlier she was convinced William all but hated her as she had simply continued with her existence day by day on hope, and now they were lovers.

Or almost lovers at least.

She wanted William as much as he declared that she wanted him, but she still was afraid and wanted to make that moment perfect between them. It wasn't the right time just yet, although she still missed his closeness as he moved back.

"I've never seen this side of you before," he said, "so caring and gentle. I know you were passionate and even wild, but this is different."

"I'm all those things rolled into one," Grell declared as she fell backwards onto the soft bed. "But most people are too blind to see it. Either they see my reckless, impulsive, side and think I'm nothing more than a bloodthirsty maniac, or I dare show a touch of vulnerability and I'm weak and foolish." She threw her arms above her head. "I can be bloodthirsty, dear, and you've seen that. I've never hidden it, but I do need someone to help me find balance and calm. I can be weak and needy when it comes to my heart, so I also need a man who can be my strength." Sitting up again, she threw her arms about his neck. "And I think I found the man who can help me find all those missing pieces. Someone to bring order to my chaos."

"I worry you think too highly of me," he said, "but I will do my best. I think that you can help me as well because I lack impulsiveness and spontaneity, although I doubt I could put it as poetically as you."

"Then let me be the poet," she said, "and you be the stoic record keeper. Together we can be whole!"

"Perhaps," he agreed before standing. "I'm going to talk to Harris today," he said in a more somber tone, "to see if I can get some of my wages early. Our food supply is running quite low."

She frowned as she looked up at him. "Maybe I can take on some outside work," she said, "to help out. I hate sitting here doing nothing."

"It's best if you stay hidden," he said, "Like I told you before, you're just too noticeable. You might be spotted even if you were disguised."

"But I could do some small jobs nearby," she insisted, "Such as sewing and mending for the local women."

"I'm not sure if you could do that," he replied, "I've seen how you repaired that coat. I'm not being mean, but I doubt you would get hired to do that sort of work."

"I've gotten much better since then," she pouted.

"I'm sure you have," he said, "but please, stay here for me. Just for now?"

"For you," she reluctantly agreed.

"Thank you," he said, and he leaned forward to steal another kiss before leaving their bedroom to finish getting ready for the day.

Although she was still annoyed he had made her agree to stay put inside her eloquent prison, she had to admit one thing to herself. William's kisses always made things a lot better. Contented despite her confinement, she got up to get dressed. Later she would put dinner on, but she did have one little project to attend to first. 

 

((x))

 

Emily's eyes were unfocused; blinded by the tears that gathered across the orbs yet refused to fall. Somewhere in this world, Ronald's killers lay in hiding like a rat in its hole, and she couldn't rest until she found them and made them suffer. So far all her efforts had been in vain, and not even that accursed feline could seemingly assist her, but he had to keep trying. She had to be successful.

"You seem tired," a voice said nearby, "You should rest."

She raised her scythe as she spun around with the intend of killing whoever had spoken, but she spun as her tired, aching eyes fell upon the form of Ronald standing nearby. For the first time, he wasn't bloody nor did he even look injured. The same casual smile was painted on his handsome face as he took a few steps forward and reached his hand towards her.

"Ronnie," she whispered, "Is it really you?"

"Not yet," he said, "but it can be me soon. You just have stop what you're doing here."

She shook her head. "I don't know what you mean!" she cried, "I'm trying to punish those who took you away. Why would you want me to stop?"

His smile slipped as he looked down towards the ground. "I can't tell you," he replied, "I don't know if I even understand it all, but I know you can't go on with this or I'll be gone forever. Please. you have to stop."

"I can't!" she screamed, "I can't!"

"What are you screaming about?" Collins suddenly asked. The image of Ronald had faded and drifted away on the autumn breeze, and Collins had taken his place. Emily took a step back as she wondered if Ronald had ever been there or if it had been Collins all along. she could never remember being so uncertain or unsure.

"I...I can't give up, sir," Emily finally managed, "I have to find Ronald's killer."

Collins took a few steps forward and put a hand on her shoulder, but she saw no compassion in his stony features. "I appreciate the dedication," he said, "but you've done your part. I have an army now and we will find Spears and Sutcliff." 

"Army?" Emily repeated, as she slowly turned around to see they were surrounded by a good twenty reapers. She had no idea how she hadn't noticed them before, and the realization terrified her. Perhaps she was losing her mind. "Can I help?" she asked, "This was my assignment after all."

Collins chuckled low as Virgil walked over to his master and mewled softly. "No," he said, "You've done your part. Now you should rest and we'll take it from here." Straightening up he looked over his shoulder. "Bishop," he said, "Create a portal and escort her home safely."

"Of course," Bishop agreed as he attended to the creation of the portal.

Emily wanted to protest. She could feel the words forming on her tongue, but her mouth wouldn't comply. Her legs had become traitors as she walked towards the portal that would lead her away from this realm. It was as if Collins word was law and she had no choice but to obey. Her tears finally broke through and streamed down her face as she stepped into the pale vortex.

As she walked through, she heard Collins talking to one of the reapers he had brought along with him, and his words caused chills to run up her spine.

"Bad response to the chip," he said in a quiet tone, "Keep an eye on her."

 

((x))

 

 

The cemetery was silent and alone, but William had no idea why he should have expected anything different. Human had an odd reverence for these burial grounds. They would visit and weep for their loved ones when it was considered appropriate, but avoided cemeteries otherwise. It was as if they felt as if avoiding the subject of death made it any less real or inevitable.  As odd as this seemed to William, he had to accept he had been no different in life.

He shoveled another layer of earth aside, and his muscles protested at the exertion. Although in far better shape than any human, William's body still had it's limits and digging so many graves in a short span of time was starting to take its toll. His shoulders throbbed and ached, and he could feel blisters forming on his hands. Whoever had termed this backbreaking work hadn't been exaggerating, so William crawled from the newly dug grave to take a long drink of water and a short break. "This is all for Grell," he mumbled to himself, "and to stop the demon that killed Knox."

"Got another one dug?" Harris suddenly asked.

William jumped slightly as he turned around. Harris was a clumsy man that moved noisily, so William must have been deeply lost in reflection not to have heard his approach. "Yes, sir," he managed as he hid his surprise. 

Harris's smile broadened as he displayed his rotten teeth. "Well, you be no slacker," he said, "and I was mightily behind. Come on then. Let's be getting one more planted before nightfall."

William gathered his shovel and other tools. "I do have one thing I'd like to ask you, Mr. Harris," he said.

"Oh?" the old gravedigger began, "What would that be?"

"Is it possible for me to be paid early," William asked.

Harris chuckled unpleasantly. "And why would I pay ya early?"

"I need the money, sir," William explained. He hated to beg, but he was desperate. "I'm rather low on food."

"I'll be paying ya on Friday like we agreed," Harris said, "Unless yer interested in me cottage here. If ya rent it, I might pay early." He gestured with a wide sweep of his arm and William noticed he was pointing to a small house at the back of the cemetery. 

"Your cottage is located in the cemetery?" William asked.

"It's a quiet spot," Harris replied, "and good to have someone watch over the graves. There be a lot who want to steal the bodies. Just last week, several graves were dug up - even the ones with the bars. It be happening all over I hear."

"I don't need a place to stay," stated William.

"Then I pay ye on Friday," Harris said, "Now come alone."

William gritted his teeth and hated the fact he had to act subservient to such a man, but he had little choice. "Yes sir," he said as he quietly followed. He just had to remember why he was doing all this. Harris was terrible to deal with, but this was temporary. 

Grell was his forever.

 

((x))

 

William was tired by the time returned home; his feet dragging as he opened the door and stumbled inside the house. He slowly walked into the parlor, but the sight of Grell sitting in front of the fire with her long legs underneath her seemed to energize him. She jumped to her feet and sat aside the cup she had been drinking from when she saw him.

"Will, darling," she said, "You look exhausted? Are you okay?"

He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. "I am now," he said, and he kissed her.

"Mmm," she mumbled as she returned the kiss and enjoyed his embrace. Together they swayed in front of the fire. "It's like we're dancing," she said.

"I'm a terrible dancer," he admitted, "I was never graceful."

"You are now," she said, "Maybe you just needed the perfect partner."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "I'm going to go clean up. I can't stand being dirty."

"I like you dirty," she said with a laugh, "but the water's hot. I'll go heat up a bite to eat while you clean up."

He nodded, his exhaustion returning as he walked upstairs. The rest of their evening went rather quietly and actually peacefully. At times, it felt more like they were simply a happy couple rather than on the run and hiding. Because he was tired, William decided to get ready for bed early. Dressed only in his pajama bottoms, he was just arranging his blankets when Grell walked inside.

William was not surprised when Grell swept into his bedroom as them sharing the same bed was quickly becoming a habit, but her attire surprised him greatly. He blinked a few times, questioning his own sight, as his eyes traveled the length of her body. "What are you wearing?" he asked in a sharper tone than he had intended.

She twirled quickly, causing the hem of his shirt that she was wearing to ride up dangerously high on he long legs and revealing some of the curvature of her hips. "I spilled something on my gown," she explained, "and I didn't have time to wash it. You don't mind me wearing your shirt, do you?"

"I don't mind," he managed as he watched her crawl into bed. "I don't mind at all." Never taking his eyes off her, he couldn't help but appreciate her legs and he lay down beside her. Hesitantly, he touched just above the knee as he gazed into her eyes.

She nodded as she blushed slightly and he slid his hand gently up the silky skin. Fear and excitement caused her eyes to sparkle. "Will," she said in a tone barely above a whisper.

 He covered her mouth with his and she closed her eyes as she leaned into his kiss. Increasing the pressure slightly, he ran his tongue across the seam of her lips. She moved back only slightly. "My teeth," she whispered.

"I'll take my chances," he said and he resumed the kiss. This time she opened her lips just enough so that he could slip his tongue inside. She moaned inside his mouth as the kiss deepened and he slid his hand further up her thigh to the edge of his shirt. Reaching down, she put her hand over his and moved away to look into his eyes.

"What Grell?" he asked; unsure if she wanted him to stop or go farther.

Before she could answer, a terrible noise erupted downstairs. Her eyes widening, she quickly rolled away to run downstairs. More than a little disappointed, he followed he as they ran into their kitchen.

They were greeted with a hiss as Virgil stared at them with his mismatched eyes; the bloody, crumpled body of Rosalind lying motionless by his furry feet.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay with this chapter.

For a brief second, it was as if time had stopped as William stood in the kitchen that had been warm and loving only a short time earlier. Now, icy fingers gripped at William's heart as he stared down at the body of his beloved pigeon. While most would have thought of her as simply a bird or, at best, a means for relaying messages, she had been more to him. Until only recently, he had always felt closed up inside and he had no outlet for his emotions, except for talking to Rosalind. There had been many evenings when he had had long conversations with her; telling her all about his day, and she had only looked up at him patiently with her dark eyes. Although it sounded foolish even in his own mind, but William had felt like Rosalind was one of the few who didn't judge him. She had been there for him when he had no one else had been.

And now she was dead.

He leaped forward and swatted blindly at the cat, who only nimbly jumped away and mewled loudly before disappearing out of a window the creature had seemingly managed to push open. William barely paid attention to Virgil's exit as he hurried over to Rosalind, and was relieved to find her moving slightly. "She's still alive," he mumbled to himself.

"How did that cat get in here?" Grell asked.

"I've seen that cat in Upper Management," William replied, "I think that thing was actually tracking us down." He scooped Rosalind up in his arms before turning to Grell. "We have to get out of here," he said, "No doubt that cat will lead the reapers looking for us right here." The words sounded strange in his own ears. Not that long ago, he would have insisted on facing his punishment, but he understood that this situation no longer involved only him. Grell was probably already declared a deserter, and even claiming he had kidnapped her would not have spared her from punishment. Besides he had no reason to doubt her words about the nature of the beast within him, so he had to stay safe for now.

Grell nodded before turning and running from the room. She returned quickly carrying two bags with her. "Some of our things," she hastily explained, "I had a bad feeling today, so I packed some stuff."

Had there been time, he would have kissed her, but they had to hurry. Creating a portal, he grabbed her hand to lead her through. His eyes took only a minute to adjust, but he knew where they were without looking. The cemetery was highlighted by the full moon and almost seemed to have an ethereal glow as he began to lead her around the tombstones.

"Why are we here, darling?" Grell asked as she looked about, "Do you really intend to hide us in a cemetery all night?"

"Not precisely," William replied. Keeping a firm grip on her hand, he led her back to the tiny cottage that was nearly hidden by the tress. As they neared, however, he suddenly remembered that he had no key or anyway to get inside, and he didn't think Harris would be particularly happy if they simply broke in. Despite years of practice to the contrary, William swore softly under his breath.

"What's wrong?" she questioned.

"This is the cottage Harris offered to rent for that ridiculous rate," he explained, "but I never got a key or anything. I don't want to sit outside until morning, but I'm not sure what to do."

She looked at him curiously for a moment, but then she smiled. "Perhaps we can find a way inside," she said, and she boldly walked right up to the door. To William's surprise, the door swung open easily and without even a single creak of protest.

It was almost like it was waiting on them.

He walked up behind her to look at what was revealed of the modest cottage by the moonlight spilling in through the open door and windows. It appeared to be a modest dwelling that was mostly one large room with a water closet built off to one side. It was a far cry from the manor they had living in, but it should keep them safe from the night. After carefully placing the injured Rosalind in a chair, he walked over to start a fire as Grell began to remove the dusty quilts from the bed. These quarters should certainly be suitable for the night, but he couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed. He had done his best to provide protection and security while on the run, but now Rosalind lay on the precipice of death while he and Grell were forced to take refuge in a tiny, cold cottage. These thoughts kept running through his head as he stared at the flickering flames and Grell arranged the pillows and blankets on the floor in front of the fire. Once she had finished, she sat down and looked up at him with a sly smile that invited him to join her. He did and she wrapped the quilt about both of them so they could huddle together.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"Sorry?" She sounded genuinely confused, "For what?"

"For this," he said, "I was trying to protect you, but now we're stuck here." He sighed loudly. "I know these arrangements are unsuitable, but it's the best I can do at the moment."

To his surprise, she laughed lightly as she laid her head over on his shoulder. "I'm afraid you're confused," she said, "It wasn't your job to protect me, Will." She laid her hand on his chest and smiled into his shirt. "We're protecting each other, and you're doing a wonderful job. You knew precisely where we could run when we needed to."

"I suppose," he replied as he relaxed slightly, "Still, this house is quite small."

"Small? Darling, don't tell me you've forgotten those first dorms we were shoved into when we were first reborn."

Despite the situation, her comparison made him chuckle. "Those rooms were tiny," he admitted.

"They weren't rooms," she said, "Those were closets that someone stuck beds into." She laughed at her own joke. "It was such a nice greeting in a way. Here we were trying to come to terms that we had become reapers, and our first rooms were so small we had to step into the hall to turn around."

"Not to mention you had a roommate to share such close quarters with," he added.

He felt her shoulders stiffen under his arms. "I didn't have a roommate for very long," she said; her voice slightly muffled against his shirt, "We had our differences, and I sent him for a short flight out the window."

"I hurt something about that," he said.

"The beginning of my bad reputation," she replied, "Not that it was entirely unfounded of course. I do have a dreadful temper and a tendency to act a bit impulsively, but no one ever asked what he had done to deserve his flying lesson. They just blamed the entire situation on me."

"What had he done?"

She snuggled a bit closer. "The same thing everyone else had always done," she answered, "I was always a bit different, so people were mean. They'd say or do little things and just laugh as if I was the greatest joke. I had put up with it my whole life, but I was through. When he started, I warned him once to stop, and then I put a stop to it myself." She sighed. "I was punished of course; a week of extra chores and confinement to my room when I wasn't in class or working. They even moved me to my own room. It was this tiny little, forgotten room that was smaller and misshapen. I told them I was happy not to have a roommate, but that wasn't entirely true. It was dreadfully lonely."

"I was lonely too," he said, "even though I always had a roommate. The first was some guy who's name I can't remember. He failed some courses our first year. After that, I roomed with Eric. He tried to include me, but I felt like he did so out of courtesy since I wasn't really the friendly, outgoing type." He stared into the fire as he held her close. "I was lonely," he repeated, "even when I was around so many people."

"Isn't it strange, darling," she began, "that we were so close all that time while we were alone. If you had just reached out to me, we wouldn't have had to be alone."

"That was a mistake," he agreed, "but one I mean to never make again."

Several minutes passed as he stared into the hypnotic flames and their fiery dance. "Grell," he finally whispered, "do you think we're going to make it through this?"

There was no answer, so he looked down at her. She was sound asleep, with her head lying against a chest and a gentle smile curling her lips. She looked so peaceful, he didn't want to wake her, so he simply arranged the blankets slightly and fell asleep with her in his arms.

 

((x))

 

  
Collins stood silently in the kitchen as he two-toned eyes stared at the stain of blood that marred the otherwise spotless floor. A nearby gray feather, which was stained in the same blood, gave evidence that this blood belonged to a pigeon, but Collins couldn't help but wish that he had spilled just a drop of Spears' tainted blood. For too long that reaper had been a thorn in his side, and yet again he remained just out of his reach along with that troublemaker, Sutcliff. While Collins considered himself the rational sort who only rarely allowed himself to become wrapped in a fantasy, he had long imagined ending Spears' existence. He wanted to do it with his own hands so he could watch the life drain from Spears's dull eyes, but for now he could only fold up that delicious daydream and tuck in neatly within the inner recesses of his mind.

A young reaper marched rapidly and sloppily into the room and stood behind Collins as he waited to be acknowledged. Even without turning, Collins knew that it was Perkins who stood behind him impatiently for only he had such an uneven tread. Although he had done well in the academy, Collins sometimes questioned why Perkins, who had foolishly allowed himself to be nicknamed Buddy by his classmates, was a member of his army. It was a situation he might have to rectify in the neary future. "What is it, Perkins?" Collins asked in mock bored tone. He picked up a glass in front of him as he spoke and stared at the rim. Perhaps the lips of his enemy had been upon that glass to drink of its contents.

There was shuffling behind him, and Collins imagined Perkins running a hand nervously though his messy blonde hair as his large eyes shifted about in wonder that Collins had known his identity. "There's no one here, sir," he finally said.

"I can see that," Collins hissed with rising annoyance as he picked up the glass. Spinning around suddenly, he threw the glass and slammed it against the wall. It shattered and glass sprayed the area, which caused Perkins to jump out of the way as his already large eyes grew in size. "What I want to know is where the hell are they? They were here."

"Well, we don't know that for certain, sir," Perkins said, "Someone was staying here, but we haven't found any evidence to suggest it was the deserters."

Collins advanced on the man and towered over him. He had learned to use his size to his advantage, and Perkins looked less and less like a competent agent as he looked up fearfully. "Virgil led us to this house," Collins began, "which just so happened to belong to the husband of the woman Sutcliff was involved with that that horrid Jack the Ripper affair. Someone was in the house who had a pigeon with them; our messagers which Spears is know to be fond of, and they were able to disappear completely in the middle of the night before we could get here. That sounds like quite the coincidence, and I don't believe in coincidences. Do I make myself clear?"

Perkins swallowed hard. "Yes, sir," he managed.

Smiling darkly, Collins stepped past the frightened reaper and into the main hall. "Everyone, meet me in the parlor!" he shouted. He walked calmly into the aforementioned room as the others rushed; each one not wanting to be the last to enter. They assembled quickly, which gave Collins a chance to look over his army. There was weakness here he hadn't seen before, and weakness was like an disease that had to be eradicated quickly before it could spread.

"Spears and Sutcliff were in this home," Collins announced, "but they managed to escape. As I suspected, they are remaining within our district, which leads me to believe they are still a threat to our realm, so drastic actions must be taken. A few of you will remain behind to continue with the search. As both reapers are dangerous and have proven themselves to be our enemies, capture is no longer an option. They are to be eliminated on sight." He paused to let this information sink in. Although no one spoke out openly, he saw a flicker of doubt and reluctance in Perkins's eyes, and he knew he was making the right decision. "However, you will be on your own," he continued, "for the threat is more to our realm this of this world. I will be returning with the rest of you, and all forms of transportation between the two worlds will be blocked. Those of you that stay will not be able to create a portal to return to our world until the block is removed. You will not be able to ask for help or assistance. Is this understand."

Everyone immediately affirmed that they understood, but there was a lack of confidence in their voices. Collins felt it was good he had seen this weakness in time to stop it. "Perkins, you will stay here along with Taylor, Moore, and McCoy. We know that Spears and Sutcliff are still in the area, so you are to locate their position and act as their excutioner. The rest of us will return, and the block will put into place as soon as everyone is secure. We need to hurry because Spears might be planning his return to our world at this very moment." Collins was actually quite sure that William was planning nothing of the sort, but it was a convenient story.

Perkins and his small group appeared downtrodden, as if they knew they were being ousted for their weaknesses, but they didn't say a word as Collins and the others left. It was as if they had accepted their fate.

  
((x))

  
William awoke early and was initially confused by his surroundings. As his eyes focused on the dying fire in front of him as well as Grell snuggled next to him, he remembered the events from the night before and how they came to be in this humble cottage. Yawning, he sat up carefully so as not to disturb Grell, as he looked over to the chair to check on Rosalind. He blinked several times; hoping his eyes were playing tricks on him, but he knew what he saw was real. Rosalind was gone.

With a cry of surprise, William leaped from his spot to kneel by the chair. There was a spot of blood but no other evidence that Rosalind had even been there.

"Will," Grell mumbled sleepily, "What's wrong?" Her hair stood out in all directions like a scarlet crown, which he normally would have found adorable, but he was more concerned for his beloved pigeon.

"It's Rosalind," he said, "She's gone."

"Gone?" Grell repeated as the sleep faded from her voice, "But how? She was hurt."

"I know, but she has simply vanished," he answered. With dim hope, he began to search about the room in case she had simply been able to move a bit on her own. He had no idea if pigeons deserted others to die alone as older dogs often did, and he felt more than a little embarassed that he didn't have that information.

Grell got up, presumably to help him search, but she stopped suddenly as she stared into the kitchen area of their tiny house. "Darling," she began, "was that fruit there before?"

Confused, William turned and saw fresh fruit in a bowl on the table. He had no idea if it had been there the night before as it had been dark when they had entered, but it seemed so peculiar for there to be fruit in a house that had been left abandoned - especially with the current prices of fruit. As he tried to figure this out, Grell walked over and opened the pantry, which was filled almost to the point to overflowing with a variety of different foodstuffs. Having something to eat was no longer an issue, but there was still the question of how all this food had gotten here.

"Do you think the guy you're working for had this place stocked?" Grell asked.

William shook his head. "I truly doubt that," he replied, "Harris had no idea I was even going to take the place, and, even if I did, he isn't the generous type. He'd never supply food."

She stared at the food for several minutes. "Darling, do you think someone came in here last night while we were sleeping? They brought all this food and took Rosalind?" she asked.

"I don't know," he said, "but none of this makes any sense. Either this food was here before, which wouldn't be reasonable unless someone was staying here, or someone brought the food in while we were asleep."

"So, what should we do?"

He thought carefully as he looked about the room. "If someone was did come in," he said, "then it doesn't look like they mean us any harm. We should put up a barrier over the house just in case, because I don't like the idea that we could have unwelcomed visitors. I will make sure that Harris didn't supply this food, although I found that doubtful. If someone was staying here without permission, I'm sure we'll find out soon enough. For now, I believe this is the best place for us to stay. What do you think?"

She shrugged. "I don't think we have anything to fear," she replied, "I mean, who's going to take on two die hard reapers like us." Smiling brightly, she revealed her razor sharp teeth and that fiery personality he had grown to both expect and love.

He nodded in agreement as he looked towards the two bags she had packed. "Where are my clothes?" he asked.

She moved quickly, as if she didn't want him rummaging through the things she had brought, but he dismissed the behavior as she pulled out a clean outfit. It was a bit wrinkled, but he didn't think that was of much concern since Harris wanted him to dig some more graves today. It still felt uncomfortable for William not dress professionally in clean suits, but he was slowly learning to accept this new life. As he took the clothes, he looked at Grell who seemed perfectly content and almost happy as she examined the food.

"Are you sure you want to stay here?" he asked, "We could find somewhere else. I would offer to even leave the country, but I don't wish to be too far. We are only hiding here for a short while and not running." He wasn't sure if he was trying to convince himself or her of his words.

"This is fine," she said, "Besides, Pops asked for me to keep an eye on you, and he said for you to stay close. I have a feeling something big is about to happen, but right now I'm simply happy. Maybe it's wrong of me, but you can't fault me for being honest about my feelings." Walking over, she wrapped her arms about him. "I know the situation might not be ideal, but I'm just so happy to be by your side."

He pulled her closer before kissing her softly. "I'm happy your are by my side," he said, but he could hear the slight tremor in his voice. Being with Grell did make this situation better. There were times he could forget he was hiding and just imagine they were a happy couple with little worries, but he knew the truth. He couldn't go back because he was possessed, Rosalind was gone and possibly dead, and he couldn't shake the feeling that something horrible was happening in their realm. "Now, I need to get dressed. I slept later than usual. Harris will be meeting me here in the cemetery, and I don't want him to see me leaving this cottage since I haven't officially rented it yet."

"I'll put on some breakfast," Grell offered.

"I don't think there's time," he said, "I'll just grab a bit of fruit."

She pouted slightly. "But I like to cook."

"You are quite a good cook," he said, "but I don't have time now."

"Well, I'll just have to make us something special for dinner," she announced, as her smile returned. He was still amazed by how fast her moods could change, but he smiled and kissed her again before retreating to the bathroom to get dressed and comb his hair. She was still rummaging through the foodstuff when he emerged, so he grabbed an apple from the bowl. "Goodbye, Grell."

She smiled as she pushed the hair from her eyes. "See you later, darling," she said.

Although the weather had gotten noticeably colder, William felt a certain warmth to the pale sun as he walked among the tombstones. He just knew that if there was anyway through all this drama, Grell and him would find a way. Just as he reached the front gate, Harris appeared and looked rather surprised to see William.

  
"I see ye be early today," Harris said, "But ye won't get paid any faster for it." He laughed at his own joke, which gave William a rather unpleasant whiff of the man's breath.

"Actually," William said, taking a step back, "I wanted to ask you about renting the cottage. I think I will accept your offer."

Harris's tiny eyes lit up with delight and greed. "Wonderful!" he exclaimed, "I'll be givin' ye the key after work, and we can work out the details."

Although william had doubted it from the beginning, it appeared that Harris had not been the one to stock the cottage with food since he appeared to have no idea that the door had been unlocked. As he was musing this, Harris suddenly leaned down and grabbed a rock, which he threw as best he could with his skinny arm. A loud yelp was heard, and William turned just in time to see a large, black dog running away.

"Useless mutt," Harris grumbled, "He was given to me to stop the grave robbers, but all that mutt guarded was his food dish. Now, time to get ye to work."

William went gather the tools as he did his best not to say anything about Harris's treatment of the poor dog. It was clear that he would have never given away free food, but that still didn't give any clues as to who might have put the food in the cottage.

Or what happened to Rosalind.

 

((x))

  
The clock on the wall slowly ticked down the minutes as another work day came to a close. Ms. Fletcher sat at her desk working diligently, but she couldn't help but look up every now and again to gaze at William's door. While he hadn't been a particularly popular man at the office, she had always found him to be a reasonable supervisor. He had certain expectations for anyone working under him, but he clearly voiced these expectations and did his best to not overburden his subordinates. While she knew very little of him outside of the office, she had liked William and had no complaints about being his secretary.

A paper was laid upon her desk as a stranger walked passed. This was a common occurrence, so she didn't stop to take a better look at the messager as she rather casually picked up the paper to see how it was to be filed. As her eyes read the few typed lines, however, her blood ran cold. She was to report to Collins's office immediately.

Keeping her face calm, she stood up quickly and smoothed her skirt before walking down the hall to the elevator, but her mind was whirling with questions. There was no way for Collins to know that Anderson had spoken to her and given her the special eyeglasses case before leaving, but still her heart sped up. Perhaps Collins would even insist that she accept the chip, but she had to heed Anderson's warning. Besides, she had gotten a glimpse of Emily after her return, and she guessed that the new, crazed look was at least partially due to the chip.

The elevator jerked to a stop, and Ms. Fletcher stepped of to walk down the hall towards Collins's office. The door loomed before her, but she calmed her nerves as she knocked lightly and entered. Collins was sitting at a rather large desk with an odd expression on his face, but he only gestured towards an empty chair before lacing his fingers together. Behind him was a large window that boasted an impressive view.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" she asked as she sat down.

"Yes," he said, "It's about Spears. We've looked for him quite a bit without much luck. You've been his secretary now for quite a few years, so I was curious as to whether you might have some insight as to where he might be hiding.

She inwardly breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm afraid I don't, sir," he answered, "Mr. Spears never talked about his life outside the office nor did he speak of anything of a personal nature. I have known him for many years, as you said, but he was always at the office when I arrived of the morning and there when I left each evening - until recently."

Collins leaned back in his chair. "I feared as much," he said, "It seems that's just about everyone's account of him. what about Sutcliff?"

"I believe Ms. Sutcliff was far more social that Mr. Spears," she answered, "but I don't know of any particular spots she liked to go. I believe she was fond of the theater though." This was all true, although Ms. Fletcher didn't think any of this could help Collins in any way.

"I doubt they're taking in shows," Collins mumbled to himself before shaking his head. "Thank you, Ms. Fletcher. That will be all."

There was no talk of chips, and she realized that Collins probably didn't see her as a threat. Normally it upset her when people downplayed her abilities and saw her as 'only a secretary,' but now she was thankful. She stood up and started for the door. "I'm sorry I couldn't be of more help, Mr. Collins," she said.

"No matter," he said dismissively, "At least I know that those two won't be able to reenter our realm." He smiled coldly. "Since it appears no one knows where they might be, I thought it might be best to take action to keep them out. I'm setting up a barrier to prevent teleporting between the two realms. They will be trapped."

She was horrified since she knew that this meant agents couldn't leave, which would prevent them from collecting souls, but she knew better than commenting on the matter. "I see sir," she said, "If you don't need me, I'll be leaving. It is time for me to return home."

"Of course," he said.

It took every ounce of willpower not to run as fast as she could away from the man, but she maintained a calm stride as she returned to her desk, gathered her things, and went home for the evening. She found she couldn't relax until she finally made it home and shut the door behind her. Letting out a long breath, she all but collapsed against the door as she thought about her day.

Her relaxation was short lived as suddenly a powerful feeling overwhelmed her and she was certain that someone had been in her apartment. She tried to tell herself it was just paranoia, but she walked into her bedroom to look for the case that Collins had given her. Once she found it, she was sure she could calm herself and these feelings of dread.

The case was right where she had left it, but the fabric had been cut hurriedly to remove whatever had been hidden inside.

She collapsed to the floor where helpless tears streamed down her face. No wonder Collins had made it a point to tell her about the barrier. He wanted to her to know that there was nowhere left to run.


	13. Chapter 13

 A chill had come with the night; enshrouding the area with an icy fog that seemed to choke out sounds as it obscured views. the graveyard was quiet, as usual, with only the sound of William's pick making any noise as he tore the first few chunks of hard ground. Even that sound seemed muted and dulled somehow, but he William barely took note of it. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of his own desertion, his and Grell's situation, and the tiredness that seeped into his muscles. Since being reborn, he was stronger than he had ever been as a human. He still had certain weaknesses such as the need to sleep and eat. Recently, he had even been able to admit his need for love, but this aching of his body was a new sensation. Perhaps it was because he was simply working harder than he ever had before and he had managed to find the previously unknown physical limitations of his reformed body, but he suspected it had far more to do with the demon that resided in the depths of his body. That thing hadn't spoken to him in a dream or invaded his mind, and there were times he could almost forget he was possessed, but his hands only had to touch at the invisible collar about his throat or to look about their current situations for him to remember all. There was a demon inside; a foul creature that had laughed at him and mocked him when it had forced him to spill Ronald's blood and devour his soul. That was something William could never allow himself to forget.

He paused briefly to lean on the pick as he looked about. An old man stood nearby as he stared at a tombstone, but the fog enshrouded him like a veil. William couldn't help but wonder if grave before the man belonged to his wife or lover, which brought William's thoughts back to Grell. There were times she almost seemed to be enjoying all this. She seemed to be happy to play a dutiful wife taking care of house and home, but he knew that was only partially true. While he felt Grell liked playing the part of homemaker, he knew that she was just as restless if not more. Her very nature demanded action and results. She was not content to simply hide in the shadows and wait, but it was still hard for him to remember that at times.

"Hello," a voice said nearby, "I am not disturbing you, am I?"

William jumped slightly as he had been unaware that anyone had been approaching, but he did his best to hide the vact he had been startled as he turned to face the speaker. The man who had spoke certainly didn't seem to the time to provoke shock or fear. He was a short, small man with an easy smile and friendly wrinkles about his gray eyes. His silver hair was thinning, but it was apparent that he had made sure to do his best to style it neatly, and his priest's garb was spotless. "You are not disturbing me," William replied, "I was just taking a short break."

The man nodded. "I can tell you're a hard worker," he said, "Most have already given up digging graves until next spring for it seems an early winter will be upon us." He held out his hand amiably. "I'm Father Walters," he greeted, "I noticed you after a funeral the other day, but I wasn't able to introduce myself properly."

William took his hand and shook it firmly. "William," he said. Although he knew it was probably only paranoia, he felt reluctant to give his full name.

Father Walters nodded as he released his hand. "A fine name. I believe it means protector." He paused briefly as he smiled at William. "I understand that you are working for Mr. Harris and renting the cottage here at the cemetery."

"Yes, I am," William answered; curious as to where this conversation was heading.

"That's good," Father Walters said, "I'm sure Harris has told you of the terrible tragedies that have happened here. People have visited the graves of their loved ones only to find they have been stolen." He shook his head sadly. "Hopefully such behavior will end now that there is someone living nearby." His smile returned. "Are you renting the cottage with your wife?"

"Pardon?" William managed.

"Your wife," Father Walters repeated, "The redhead. I haven't had a chance to spoken to her, but I saw her briefly chopping wood yesterday."

William's mouth was set in a firm line as he fiddled with the pick. The ground had just about been broken up enough to move to the shovel. "She is not my wife," he answered simply. while he supposed that he could have lied and said that Grell was his wife or even his sister without Father Walters being the wiser, William didn't like lying nor was he very good at it.

"That's a shame," said the Father, "It is good to have someone by your side; a helpmate to walk through life with, and it is dangerous to live in temptation."

"We are fine," William said but a new fear was slowly creeping into his heart. This priest might try to have Harris turn them out for being an unmarried couple.

"I'm sure you think so," Father Walters said, "but please remember one thing. The doors of the church are always open, and I live just to the other side."

"The other side?"

"I'm talking about the church just beyond the cemetery," clarified Father Walters, as he pointed to the aforementioned structure, "My dwelling is just to the other side. While it's not traditional, I would be happy to perform any such ceremony day or night."

"Thank you, Father," William said, "but I don't think that will be necessary. Now, I really should be getting back to work. I need to get this grave dug before it is too late."

Father Walters gave him a rather sad smile. "I understand," he said, "but please remember my words. I'll leave you to your work now." There was a slight hesitation in his step, but the priest slowly walked away until his form had been completely swallowed by the fog. William watched him leave before reaching for his shovel to continue the grave.

"He's right you know."

With a barely concealed sigh, William looked up and saw that the unsolicited advice had come from the older gentleman who had been staring at the tombstone earlier. The fog obscured much of his features at this distance, but William was simply not in the mood for another such discussion. "This is not something I wish to discuss," William said, "I have work that must be done." He grabbed the shovel and returned the soon to be grave where he attacked the dirt almost savagely. Despite the tiredness in his sore muscles, he made short work of the project. Soon, he was standing in a freshly dug grave.

"You should make time," the man said, and his voice was far too close for William's comfort. Looking up, William saw that he was standing directly above the grave now. He was about to tell the man to bugger off, when the weak sun happen to dance upon the man's glasses and light up his eyes. Although the white hair and facial features were different, there was no denying who's eyes were staring at him now.

"Anderson?"

 

((x))

 

Forensics was located down a long, featureless hallway in the basement of one of the main buildings. Collins had always felt a bit depressing to walk down this hallway and, despite not being a scientist himself, found it a bit unfair. It was part of the old way of thinking. Their world was all about the collecting of souls through ancient spiritual means to the point that sciences were treated like an afterthought or a joke. Once he rose to the throne, he wanted to embrace the magic and the science of their realm; marry the two opposing sides to create one glorious union. It was far beyond what anyone could have ever imagined, and it would be all his doing. A smile painted Collins otherwise expressionless face as he marched down that hall, but it slipped slightly when he paused under a blinking light. It was enough to drive one to insanity and should have been fixed sooner. He would punish the incompetent workers who had overlooked such a detail. After all, there could be no such imperfections in his kingdom. Replacing his smile, he swung upon metal, double doors that led into a large room. "What's the good news?" he asked.

Several scientists inside glanced at one another in a rather unsure manner, but it was Othello whom Collins was really keeping in his sight. Although he was undoubtedly the most brilliant scientist on his team, he had been friends with Sutcliff. There were even rumors that he had some sort of feelings for her in fact, and this was worrisome. Collins wanted to keep him as part of the team, and he couldn't risk implanting the chip in scientists. Their brains were too valuable to risk any injury, but he had make sure that Othello's faithfulness was on their future and not his possible feelings for a certain ostentatious redhead.

"Othello," he said directly, "Have we had any success?"

The young scientist nervously ran a hand through his thick, dark hair and adjusted his glasses. "We can replicate the experiments started by the deserter," he said, "We can make the dead walk."

As if to illustrate his point, Othello flipped a nearby switch, which lit up a room connected by a one way mirror. Inside the room, multiple moving corpses, what Undertaker had referred to as Bizarre Dolls, milled about blindly and aimlessly. There were no living souls in their vicinity, so for now they seemed harmless and almost docile, although Collins knew precisely what would happen if a person wandered into that room. Othello looked into the room with Collins, but he held his mouth tightly and there was no sparkle in his dual irises.

"Do you have an issue with my experiments?" Collins asked suddenly.

Othello started slightly and shuffled his feet. "May I be frank, sir?" he asked hesitantly.

"Of course," replied Collins honestly. Othello's brain was far too precious to tamper with even if he had a dangerous opinion.

"It seems wrong," Othello said, "We pursued the deserter for this very thing and called it a crime. If it was wrong for him, it shouldn't be right for us."

Collins smiled reassuringly. "The nature of the experiments weren't the deserter's crime," he answered, "but it was his purpose. He wanted to gain this ability to control life and death for selfish reasons, and he endangered people while doing so. That was his crime."

"And our reasons are...acceptable?" questioned Othello.

"Very much so," Collins replied, "We have to gain this knowledge as we move forward. There are dark times ahead, and we must be prepared. Besides, we aren't going to be content with just making dolls that act alive. We are going to truly find a way to make them alive."

"Do you think that's even possible?" Othello asked.

"Anything is possible," Collins said quietly before sighing. "We are facing quite a bit of conflict," he continued, "We had to close the border between our world and the living one."

"I've heard about that," Othello stated.

"Demons are rising up and the world just isn't safe. Then we have that issue with Spears." Collins paused as he watched Othello closely for any sort of reaction. He had heard that the scientist harbored feelings for Grell, which might be something he could use to his advantage.

Othello's features softened as his eyes took on a faraway appearance. "I've heard about that too," he said.

"It was so unexpected for Spears to snap like he did," Collins added, "He was stressed and a bit overworked, but there were no real warning signs, and he even managed to drag a senior reaper along with him. I do feel sorry for Sutcliff. Don't you?"

"Feel sorry for Grell?" Othello asked, "What do you mean?"

It was clear he did have feelings for Grell, so Collins chose his next words carefully. "I'm not sure if deserting was Sutcliff's choice," he continued, "she had been secretly assigned to capture Spears, so there's a strong chance that the tables were turned somehow. Of course, until we know for certain, Sutcliff has been declared a deserter along with Spears, and she can't even return until we can drop the barrier." He sighed dramatically as he stepped towards the glass that divided the two rooms. A Bizarre Doll fell into the glass as it worked it's gaping jaws a few times. Despite it's dead, decaying flesh, it's hair was still long and beautiful. Falling in gold ringlets passed the waist, that hair had probably been that creature's pride in life but now it was only a morbid decoration for a corpse.

"When can we drop the barrier?" questioned Othello.

Collins never even turned to look at him as he continued to stare at the blonde Doll. "As soon as we discover their secret," he said at the Bizarre Dolls. "Once we learn the true secret into making them live once more, we can drop the barrier and figure out the truth of this whole mess. Perhaps we can even rescue Sutcliff, if that is necessary of course."

There was a pregnant pause and Collins could practically hear Othello's thoughts. "I'll get to work on it right away," he finally said before quickly walking away to return to his studies and experiments.

Collins barely suppressed a laugh. Convincing Othello had been easier than he thought, and it had only taken a tiny lie. He had no intentions on rescuing anyone.

Grell and William had to die.

  
((x))

  
"You shouldn't shout my name so loudly," Anderson said, "There are those who are looking for me, although most couldn't have seen through my disguise so easily." He almost seemed proud as his mouth twitched upwards to reveal the tiniest of smiles. "How are you?"

"How am I?" William repeated as he jumped from the freshly dug grave to stand before him, "What sort of question is that?"

"I suppose it sound foolish, but I was only attempting to make conversation," Anderson replied.

"Then tell me what's going on," William said, "I know there's more that you didn't tell Grell earlier. What is precisely happening?"

Anderson shook his head. "It's a very long story," he said, "and there are parts that even I don't know."

"Then tell me what you do know," insisted William, "Please, Anderson. I deserve to know the truth."

"I suppose you do," Anderson agreed, "To start with, allow me to ask you a question. How much do you know about the prophesy concerning New Death."

The question caught William off guard, but he did his best to keep his face neutral. Even now he found himself concerned about showing too much emotion. "Not much," William admitted, "Only that it states someone is going to rise up as some sort of ruler of our realm."

"That is the heart of it," Anderson said, "Well, it seems that a certain reaper by the name of Collins is convinced he is to be this New Death. Do you know him?"

"I've heard of his name," William answered, "Although I don't think I've met him."

"Of course you have," countered Anderson, "You were both offered the same promotion some time back. Do you remember that?"

"I do now that you mention it," William said, but there was something in Anderson's gaze that made him uncomfortable. "Is there something else?"

"Why did you turn down that promotion, William?" Anderson asked suddenly, "We both know that it was initially offered to you, but you didn't accept it. Why was that?"

"I didn't feel I deserved the job," William answered automatically.

"But that's not the only reason, was it?" questioned Anderson, "There was something else."

William dropped his gaze briefly to look down, and saw that his previously well-shined shoes were scuffed and covered with dirt. "I didn't think I could do as much good there," he admitted, "I couldn't protect my subordinates."

"Namely Grell," Anderson added, although he didn't wait for William to confirm. "When you turned down the job, it was offered to Collins who accepted the position without question. He thought that it was a sign that he was New Death, and he set about attempting to make changes." He took a few steps away and ran a gloved hand over a nearby tombstone. "The first was the chipping protocol."

"Chipping? I'm afraid I don't understand."

"There were these tiny chips that Collins proposed putting inside the body of certain agents," explained Anderson, "It was so they could be tracked, which would be useful if they were injured, captured, or deserted. On the surface, these chips seemed excellent, but there was concern there might be side effects. Upper Management quickly rejected the idea." The older reaper paused as he studied the same grave he had been standing at earlier. "Until the Jack the Ripper incident."

William understood where this was going. "Collins used Grell's actions to justify his chip," he stated.

Anderson nodded. "He said that with the chip, it would have become clear that Grell was spending more time in the living world or even when he thoughts first turned to murder, which might have prevented the Grell's involvement. He pushed for Grell to be used to test the chip, and some of Upper Management were swayed by his argument."

"But they decided to only suspend Grell instead," William said.

"Mostly because you fought for her," Anderson clarified, "Which made you even more of an opponent in Collins's eyes. First, you were up for what he thought was his promotion, and then you stopped his first real chance to implement the chip. Of course, Collins was really able to push the case with Grell."

"Why's that?" asked William.

"Collins's position, as you know having been offered it, is to assign reapers to particular cases," Anderson replied, "It's to prevent giving reapers assignments that might be more difficult for them personally for whatever reason, yet one of the first things he does if assign Grell to the case of a woman killing prostitutes for having abortions - a woman who was acting out of frustration and anger from not being able to have her own children."

William's eyes grew wide as he realized what Anderson was saying. "So Collins made a mistake," he said, "Grell should have never been given the Durless case with her own history."

"That's one possibility," Anderson stated, "which would explain why he dropped the matter quickly, but what if it wasn't just a mistake?" He turned his attention back to the grave as he studied the name. "Collins was trying to push this chip after all, so there was some suspicion he had purposely assigned Grell the case."

"He set Grell up?"

"Not precisely," Anderson said, "Grell did make her own decisions and choices in this matter, but there's a chance he was setting up a scenario where Grell was likely to go against protocol. Collins didn't force her to take part in the murders, but he knew the situation might be enough to push her over the edge. Either way, he tried to use Grell's action as part of his own ageneda, but it failed, due in large part to your actions."

"Do you think it was on purpose?" William asked.

"I wouldn't doubt it, but there's no real way to know for sure. Collins next big push for his chip happened after that sad affair with Slingby and Humphries. There's no reason to believe he set them up, but he did use the tragedy to for his own agenda. Slingby did manage to kill quite a few people, and some of Upper Management was swayed, but there was still quite a bit of sympathy over the matter. Collins was voted down by a slim margin." There was a long pause. "Now, there's this situation with you."

"Upper Management listened this time," William guessed.

Anderson nodded again. "The demon was detected when you entered the prison," he said, "but Collins managed to hide that fact from most. Initially I thought that Upper Management was just trying to hide the existence of a demon that could possess a reaper, but it was all Collins. He had to convince everyone that you had simply gone mad to push the chips and gain control."

William took a deep breath. "What has he managed to do so far?" he asked, although he wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer.

"Chips are administered on a volunteer basis, for now," Anderson said, "but he has Upper Management completely under his control. He's pushing for experiments, although I don't know all the details. He has closed off all borders between the two worlds. It's impossible to travel back and forth now."

"What?" William cried, "Then how are souls being collected?"

"They're not," Anderson answered sadly.

Rage began boiling up inside of William, but he had no outlet at the moment. "That's our main job," he said, "I can't believe that any reaper, even one wanting power and control, would lose sight of that. So, what can I do?"

Anderson reached into his pocket and pulled out a white handkerchief. With an odd expression, he slowly unfolded it to reveal two gold rings, which he handed towards William.

"What's this?" William asked as he took the rings.

"You should listen to that priest earlier," Anderson said, "Marry Grell and find your happiness."

William barely resisted the urge to throw the rings as far with all his strength. "What? Is this some sort of joke?" he asked, "You've just told me that our realm is in chaos and souls aren't being collect, but you expect me to get married and play house as if nothing was wrong?"

"I'm being very serious," Anderson replied, "There is a war on the horizon, William. You and Grell are our last hope, so you have to be ready when the time comes for you to fight. Until then, you need to find your strength, and there's no greater strength that that which can be found in love and happiness."

"You're insane."

Anderson only smiled before pointing to the grave in front of him. "I was standing here while waiting for a chance to speak to you," he said, "Do you know whose grave this is?"

"No," William replied.

"It's my wife's grave," explained Anderson, "We were married for many years, and we were happy. When I lost her, I didn't think I could go on, and that is when I took my own life. I had this idea that I could follow her into the afterlife where we both could remain forever by each other's side. Of course, things didn't work out as I had planned." A tear formed in Anderson's eye, but he didn't make a move to wipe it away. "But her love gives me strength," he added, "I still use to make it through each day until I can move on."

"This doesn't make sense to me," William said.

"You love Grell, don't you?" Anderson said. When William didn't answered, he continued to speak. "I've watched you two since the academy, and I've seen the feelings between you two grow. Right now, that love is ready to blossom. I know how hard it is for you to simply wait around to act, but it's the best thing for now. As I said, William, there is a war close at hand. Soon, there will be pain and hardship. Grab hold of that love now while you can."

William only shook his head and slowly turned around. He stuffed the rings in his pocket as he set about gathering his tools for his next job.

Harris appeared walking through the icy fog. "What are ye doin'?" he asked, "We got work to be doin'."

William nodded and turned to at least tell Anderson goodbye, but he found the older reaper had disappeared without a trace.

 

((x))

 

The cottage was smile and humble compared to the home they had only recently been living in, but Grell still did her best to make it a suitable home. She had lived in far worse places, and she was content as long as she had William by her side. Despite these feelings, however, she couldn't deny she was becoming restless and that these four walls were beginning to feel more and more like a prison. She had always been someone who preferred action to complacency. Her hands twitched as she longed to swing her beautiful scythe once again. She knew that they had to stay hidden for now, but she hoped that soon she would be able to act as a proper reaper as well as William's love.

She heard the front door open and close, and turned to greet William. Each day he seemed a bit more tired as he walked through the door, but she did her best to greet him with a loving smile. "Food's ready," she sang out.

He only nodded. "I prefer to bathe first," he said gruffly. There was no warmth in his voice and he hadn't even looked at her directly. Pulling off his dirty shirt, he started for the washroom, but then paused. "You were seen chopping wood," he announced.

She frowned in confusion. "I had to cut up some firewood," she said, "I wanted to keep the house nice and warm for you."

"You were seen," he reiterated, "I told you that you needed to be careful because you're more noticeable than me. Why didn't you wait?"

"Darling, it had to be done," she answered, "and I couldn't ask you to do it considering all you do already."

He shook his head in a distracted manner. "Just be careful," he muttered before disappearing into the adjoining room to bath.

She couldn't understand this sudden switch in mood. William was often tired when he returned home, and he still wasn't that much of a conversationalist, but he had seemed almost angry with her. It was true that she could have been seen cutting up wood, it wasn't as if she had gone parading herself down the streets. Just as William had asked, she had remained at home and had stayed mostly indoors. In fact, she felt as if she was about to go crazy from cabin fever, but William still didn't seem to be satisfied. She supposed that he was simply under stress as well as she collected the shirt he had tossed aside so it could be washed later.

After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom. Although he was now clean, his expression hadn't changed, and she still sensed that same anger bubbling just beneath the surface. Without speaking, she fixed him a plate of food and set it on the table.

"Thank you," he said, but he did so without any real emotion.

"You're welcome," she replied, "Will, is anything wrong? You seem upset."

"Why should I be upset?" he retorted bitterly, "I'm on the run, my world is being destroyed, and there's a demon inside me. Nothing to be upset about though." He dropped his fork so that it clattered loudly on the table, and rubbed his temple with his fingers. "I'm sorry," he said, "I am upset, but I have no right to take it out on you." Sighing loudly, he looked up at her and made eye contact since the first time he had entered the cottage. "I saw Anderson today."

"Really?" she asked, "What did he say? Does he know how to get that demon out of you yet?"

"Actually," William replied, "he didn't say anything about the demon, and I forgot to ask." He seemed almost puzzled by this, but he shook his head before going on. "The reaper realm is in chaos," he said, "That Collins we talked about has basically taken over. He even closed off the boundaries so no one can travel back and forth." He sighed loudly. "Anderson says a war is coming."

She understood why he was so upset, but she gave him her gentlest smile as she took his hand. "Everything will be okay," she said, "We have each other. I'll be your strength."

Suddenly William's expression changed as he pulled his hand away. The coldness she had always admired in him rose to the surface, and it was almost as if she could feel the temperature in the room drop several degrees. "We'll have to be strong for ourselves," he said before resuming eating. It was clear he didn't wish to talk about the subject anymore.

Grell let him be, although she was still confused by his change in mood. After he ate, he wordlessly went to the bed they shared and curled up on his side with his face towards the wall. she cleaned up the dishes before changing into her own nightclothes to crawl into bed beside him.

"Good night, darling," she whispered, but there was no answer.

As she lay there in silence she couldn't help but wonder if she had done anything wrong and why it suddenly seemed as if there was a distance between them despite the fact they shared the same bed.

 


	14. Chapter 14

The humble cottage had been cleaned thoroughly so that it gleamed and sparkled, but it no longer felt like a warm and happy home. Grell stood in the center and slowly pivoted about to make sure that nothing was out of place, but a part of her realized that was was missing was the love that had slipped through her fingers. William hadn't been as cold as he had been the night he mentioned talking to Anderson, but the distance between them now was unmistakable. Each evening he came home, ate, bathed, and went to bed with little more than brief conversation. Somehow it was even worse than it had been before everything had happened, and she half expected him to revert back to Sutcliff when addressing her. She had gotten used to his coldness and had even found it part of his appeal in the past, but that was before she had gotten a glimpse of his love. Now, she just wanted to see the love in his eyes and the touch of his hand.

At first, she had tried to be patient with him, although patience had never been her strongest virtue. She knew the troubles in their realm upset him greatly and that he blamed himself in part, so she had wanted to provide him strength in these trying times. As the days passed, however, her patience thinned and she worried that she had inadvertently done something to upset him. She worried and fretted over every detail of their interactions, but she couldn't figure out anything she had done to make William hate her. Finally, the worry started to turn into something new; an emotion with which she was very familiar. Anger.

She had done her best to help William, and none of this had been particularly easy on her either. She would love to be able to get out and do something, but she had to stay here in this tiny home. Up until these recent changes in attitude, she had had at least William's affection and their growing relationship to give her strength, but now she had seemingly lost that. Even if she had done something wrong, William could at least tell her and give her the opportunity to apologize. As it was, she could only guess what was wrong while feeling lonelier and more restless with each passing second.

With restless energy, she took the few steps to a nearby closet that William didn't use and threw the door open. Hanging inside was a dress - the wedding dress a tiny part of her had always dreamed of wearing one day. It had begun with Madam Red, who had been a talented seamstress, and a long discussion about William. While they talked, Madam Red would work on the dress how she talked of her own wedding day and how it contradicted her dream wedding. The dress itself was white, but there was a brilliant red trim along the high collar, as well as room for fresh flowers on the veil. The nearly finished dress had been hung in the closet of the house William and her had hidden in previously, but Grell had never forgotten about the dress. After seeing her own poor job repairing the red coat, Grell had been studying and practicing sewing, and she had been spending her days alone finishing the dress. Now it was finally done, but it was becoming clear she would never have a chance to wear the dress. It was a foolish dream to start with, and she slammed the door shut to avoid looking at it any longer.

As she slammed the door, a very distinct yet faint feeling crept up her body and caused the tiny hairs at the base of her neck to stand. There was a demon nearby; still too far away for the scent to travel, but still close enough she could sense his presence. William wasn't far, but there was a chance he hadn't realized there was a demon so close. He had never been as quite as sensitive as her, and he was occupied by his work. There was a chance that she was the only one aware the creature was nearby.

A smile slipped across her face as she summoned her scythe to her grasp. The weight was so familiar in her hand, that she hadn't even realized how much she had missed it until this moment, but now she felt complete once more. Cloaking herself so that she wouldn't be seen by human eyes, she slipped from the cottage and leaped into the air with grace and beauty. The feel of the wind running through her hair like loving fingers added the euphoria of this moment as neared the demons. Soon, she would be upon them.

The red goddess of death had returned.

She was a bit disappointed when she reached her destination. Three, low-level beasts were crowded about a fallen figure, but none were familiar, interesting or powerful. Such beasts could easily be dealt with, but at least this should provide her some amusement. They were so intent on the figure before them, they were apparently unaware of her presence as she stared down from a nearby roof. "Am I interrupting something?" she announced boldly.

They turned to look at her. Two had attempted to take on human form, but had failed to hide their crimson eyes or fangs. Otherwise they were blonde copies of one another; both sporting plain, boring faces that would have blended into any crowd. The third hadn't even tried to mask his demonic visage, and she found herself staring into blood red eyes almost hidden in a thick mane of black fur. She couldn't tell what type of demon he was precisely, but that was of little concern. She could feel his power was weak and insignificant.

"A reaper!" screeched one of the blondes, "I thought they had disappeared!"

She laughed eagerly. "You were wrong," she announced, "for the most beautiful and deadly of all the reapers is standing before you. Tremble before my beauty, but don't bother begging for mercy. Your curtain has all but fallen." With those words, her scythe roared to life as she jumped down among them. She caught the one who had spoken with her first swing, and it's hot, thick blood squirted forth to paint her face. The familiar smell was like an aphrodisiac as she fell in love with the bloodier aspects of her existence all over again. The other blonde tried to run, but she was on him in a flash. She opted to simply slice his head off cleanly so that she could be doused with more of the crimson spray.

"You're not trying to run or fight me," she asked the final demon.

"There is no use," he said, "I can tell who you are, and you are known among the demons. I suspect you are with that fallen reaper."

She frowned slightly. "You seem to think you know a lot," she stated.

"I know some things," replied the demon, "Pass on this message. Tell the fallen one he would be accepted into our leagues without question. We would value the power of a reaper and demon combined as well as anything he might produce."

Her sharp teeth glistened in the sun as she glared at the demon. "There's no use of giving Will that message," she announced, "He'd never stoop so low as to help a demon. Besides, it won't do you any good." With a roar, she rushed the final demon who briefly attempted to dodge the attack, but she was able to outmaneuver him with ease. With two swings of her roaring blade, nothing was left but his scattered corpse and his coppery, tainted blood upon the cobblestone.

With the demons dead, she turned her attention back the figure they had been hovering over only to find it was a human who had been dying. As her two-toned eyes fell upon him, he briefly looked in her direction and took his final, shallow breath. He was dead. Undoubtedly the demons had been just waiting for his death so that they could take his soul with ease, but it was peculiar that there were no reapers in the vicinity. She was about to leave when she remembered what William had said about Collins closing the boundaries between their realm and this one, which would mean that no reapers could travel back and forth. Souls of those who died were simply being left to the mercy of hungry demons.

After considering the situation for a moment, Grell cut the dead body with her scythe to call forth the records. It was second nature for her now to review the records before collecting the soul. She was able to store it within her scythe for the time being, which solved the immediate problem, but now she was unsure what to do next. Taking care of the demons and collecting the soul had solved her boredom as well as given her an outlet for her frustrations, but without a list, she had no idea of who was scheduled to die. She would like to continue, but she didn't want to wonder around aimlessly.

Demons seemed to be the solution, she realized, as she jumped up to the highest roof in the vicinity. She had no idea where someone might be dying, but she could at least hunt demons by using her senses and collect any souls she might find along the way. With a plan in mind, she smiled as she looked around in search of her next target.

 

((x))

 

William worked at digging despite his aching, complaining muscles. The last few days had not been easy as Harris seemed to be determined to get as much work done as possible despite the fact that William was doing the bulk of the work. He paused briefly as he took a minute to rub his shoulder as he reached into his pocket to pull out a handkerchief to wipe away the dirt from his face. As he did, the rings that Anderson had given him fell to the ground quietly. He stared at them for a moment before leaning down to retrieve them. He started to wrap them back in the handkerchief when he noticed a tiny slip of paper that Anderson must have slipped in with the rings. Curious, William unfolded the paper to see if it had any significance.

 

_These are keys to your happiness._

 

It was such a simple message, but it made William simply stop and stare. Each day he had been sticking the rings in his pocket to keep Grell from seeing them, but he had been reluctant to simply dispose of them. It would have been easier, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. He could have tried to give several reasons for this, but he knew the truth deep in his heart.

He loved Grell and he wanted to marry her.

He felt guilty because he knew his focus should be on their realm and all the turmoil, but he had never taken any time for just himself and his happiness. Even in his life, he had just been so accustomed to sacrificing his own wants for the 'greater good,' but now he wanted to do something for himself - and for Grell. Yet, he had pushed aside the idea so quickly when Anderson had suggested it, and he had grown cold to Grell. That hadn't been fair. It wasn't her fault that he was having this internal conflict, but he had treated her like a stranger since he had received these rings. There were times that he'd wake up at night and look at her in the moonlight. He had seen the worry in her face, but something inside had kept him from waking her and confessing the truth. Instead, he had just drifted farther and farther away. He had been so wrong.

"Daydreamin' on the job?" Harris suddenly asked, "Be careful or I might have to dock ya."

William had no idea how that old man moved so quietly, but he quickly started back to work. "Sorry," he mumbled.

Harris sighed as he looked over the graveyard. "We been doin' good," he said, "Everyone else has hung up their shovels. No plantin' anyone in the winter? Hogwash! Of course, I guess you be expecin' a few days off."

Pausing, William looked at him curiously. He really couldn't afford time off with as little as Harris paid him. "Pardon?" he asked.

"Fer Christmas," he said, "It's day after tomorrow."

William was shocked that it was already that late in the year, but he did his best to hide his surprise. "I would like a day or two off," he said.

"Might as well," grumbled Harris, "Nobody wants their relative buried that day." He kicked at a loose clod of dirt. "I'll need ya tomorrow, but then you can have some time off. No pay of course."

"Of course," William agreed.

With a nod of his dirty head, Harris turned and walked away. He was still complaining and grumbling as he did, but his words were no longer decipherable. The unfortunate dog, Bo, walked into his path. The black dog looked up at his master with something akin to love and even wagged his tail slightly, but Harris just kicked at it as he walked past. Thankfully his foot didn't make contact, but William still frowned. That poor dog did nothing but try to please Harris, but the old man just pushed it away as if it's love and affection meant nothing.

He only hoped that Grell didn't feel that way about him.

 

((x))

 

Collins's footsteps echoed loudly as he walked through the massive library. Here were countless numbers of souls waiting for the day they would receive ultimate judgement, but that really seemed like such a waste. They were simply cluttering the shelves, and surely no more than a handful deserved any sort of reward. At best, they were people who had simply lived their lives and died. They were insignificant and unimportant. Their lives didn't touch or change everyone for they had simply existed. Of course he, being New Death, could put them to use. Despite their experiments, none of the scientists could figure out how to create even the faintest facsimile of a soul. When he had ascended, Collins was sure he'd have that power, but it still alluded him. Of course, that shouldn't be a real issue when they had all these souls here that no one was using.

While it was true that some or even all these souls might be lost, it was a reasonable sacrifice for their realm. Things were about to change, and they all had to be ready. What made this even more exciting was that they could even experiment what might happen if a soul was put into its corresponding body. Perhaps they would finally gain control over life and death after all. Collins was tempted to laugh and dance in this sacred hall as he considered it all.

"Sir?" a fragile voice inquired.

He spun around suddenly and summoned his scythe in case a fight was at hand, but he only saw Emily standing in a nearby doorway. She looked as if she had aged greatly since he had last seen her. There had been a time she had gained a beauty with her grief and rage, but now she looked worn and ragged. Her hair was in need of brushing and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. She took a few steps towards him, but her movements were jerky. She looked like a marionette being controlled by a drunk puppeteer. "What is it?" he asked.

Tears streamed down her pale face. "Ronald is dead," she said.

He nodded as he adopted a caring persona. "I know," he replied, "but we will find justice for him."

"No," she said, "I mean he's really dead. Even after he was killed, he would come to me. I could see him, but not anymore." The tears now slipped down the contours of her cheeks and dripped off her chin. "He's gone completely now. I've lost him." She walked over to Collins and fell against him. "I've lost him," she repeated in a bare whisper.

Her mind had been destroyed far beyond what Collins had realized, and he would have felt sorry for her if he hadn't been able to see the bigger picture. She was all a part of the process of growing, and there were bound to be some failures along the way. "I'm sorry," he lied.

She continued to cry as she clung to him, and he was inwardly revolted by her tears. With her head down, she was completely vulnerable to him, and Collins realized it was probably best at this point to put her out of her misery. Her mind would only continue to degrade, and she would have no place in their new realm. He held out his hand to quietly summon his scythe

 Othello stepped into the room; his sandals barely making a sound on the highly polished floors. There was an uncertain look upon his face as he stepped into the library and looked over at them. He cleared his throat. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Collins?" he asked.

Although a broad smile decorated Collins face, inside he was shaking at the poor timing. "Of course," he said, "Please, step on in. I need to show you something." With faux gentleness, he pushed Emily away slightly. "Go to your apartment, my dear," he said, "Everything will be taken care of."

She nodded and turned to walk way. As Collins watched her leave, he felt his anger grow with each one of her steps. She was a loose end that needed to be taken care of soon.

 

((x))

 

As evening approached, William worked quickly to make sure all of his work had been completed. Lately, he had purposely taken his time and done a bit extra, but now he wanted to hurry back home - and back to Grell. He realized now how wrong he had been in his treatment of Grell, and he hoped he still had time to set things right. If Harris noticed that he had hurried, he didn't say a word, although he did make a point to remind William he had to work tomorrow before taking his short holiday vacation. He would also be expected to return a few days after Christmas, although they probably wouldn't work on New Year's. William had readily agreed to these terms. The sun was still visible in the sky when William had returned to the cottage.

"Grell," he called when he stepped inside, "I'm home. We need to talk."

His only answer was silence, and he found that there was no food on the stove. Looking back, he found that their home as quiet as a crypt and just as dead without the vibrancy of Grell bringing it life. He began to fear she had left, and he really couldn't blame her with the way he had been treating her. It looked as if he had failed once again, and he sank down heavily in a nearby chair. "Grell," he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

"What did you say, darling?" Grell asked.

He jerked his head up to see that she was standing in the doorway. Initially he was relieved, but then he noticed the blood splattered on her face and clothes. "Grell, are you okay?" he asked as he jumped to his feet.

"I'm fine," she said in a surprised tone, but then she looked down at her clothes. "Oh, you're referring to the blood? Don't worry, it's not mine." She walked past him casually as she stripped off her gloves and started to unbutton her shirt.

He followed her. "Who's blood is it?" he asked.

"Demons'," she answered calmly before turning to face him. "I know you want me just to stay here, Will, but I was just so alone and bored. I found a way to work out some of my frustrations." She held up her blood stained scythe and smiled. "And did some good for a change. There's demons all over now and no one's collecting souls. I just took care of a few."

"But you don't have a list," William countered, "How did you find the souls."

"The old fashioned way," she snapped, "I looked. It was better than just staying around here and being ignored."

His heart breaking, he stepped forward and touched her face gently. "I'm sorry," he said, "I've treated you so poorly lately. Can you forgive me?"

It was clear that she was softening with his apology, but she still pouted slightly. "Do you mean it?" she asked.

"Of course," he replied, "I've been cruel to you." He took a deep breath. "There's still a part of me that fears I don't deserve happiness, and it scared me to realize how happy being with you made me. I pushed you away. I'm sorry."

"Will," she breathed, "I could never stay mad at you, especially when you apologize. Just don't do that anymore. I'm here for you, so don't shut me out."

He nodded before kneeling before her. He pulled a ring out of his pocket. "I don't plan to ever again," he said, "Grell Sutcliff, will you marry me?"

She gasped as her eyes grew almost comically large. "Will, do you mean it?"

"With all of my heart," he replied.

Tears came to her eyes, but then she suddenly turned away and looked down at the floor. "You want to marry me even now?" she asked, "I'm standing here all bloody, and you know I have a brutal side. I love you, Will, but I have a temper. Are...are you sure? Am I good enough for you?"

Her own doubt hurt him deeply, so he stood and retrieved the handkerchief from his pocket. Wiping the blood from her lips, he looked at her face, although she still had her eyes averted. "I love you," he said, "All of you. I don't just love the beautiful passionate side. I love your flaws and the shadows in your heart as well. The question is whether I'm good enough for you."

She turned to look at him and smiled. "Yes, darling. I love all of you as well."

"Then, will you marry me?"

Nodding, she held out her hand and he slipped the ring on her finger. It fit as if it had been made for her, and William knew that this was the first moment in their new life together. She was still crying tears of joy as they shared their first kiss as a newly engaged couple.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my dear friends who made this chapter possible!

Grell stood there for a moment in the humble cottage; allowed herself to savor this moment wrapped up in William’s arms and his love. Outside, the ever colder wind whipped about as demons roamed the streets looking for lost souls, but that couldn’t touch her heart. This was her moment, their moment, and a part of her just wanted to hold on to it for as long as she could.

“Engaged.” She said the word aloud so she could taste it on her lips. “I was about to think it was just an impossible dream, but I never gave hope.” Tears came to her eyes. “You’ve made me so happy, love. Even if we can’t ever get married, just knowing you would want to is enough.”

“Perhaps we can get married,” William said.

She stepped back and smiled at him warmly. “What do you mean, darling? Aren’t we hiding? How could we ever get married?”

“I met a priest the other day while working in the cemetery,” he explained, “He was the one who had seen you chopping wood, and he asked if you were my wife. When I told him that we were not married, he agreed to do so. In fact, he seemed quite anxious to perform a ceremony.”

She felt her eyes grew wide as her cheeks flushed. “He will marry us?” she asked.

He nodded. “He said he would do so at any time,” he said, “It all depends on when you want to marry.”

“What about tomorrow?” she immediately asked.

“Tomorrow?” he repeated, as his smile slipped slightly. “So soon? Can we get everything ready in time?”

“Of course!” she cried, “I mean, we don’t have anyone to invite and there’s no preparations to make really. We just need to go there and promise ourselves to each other forever and ever.” She let go of his hands to twirl about as if dancing, but stopped just shy of the closet door. “I have something to show you, Will,” she said.

When he stepped closer, she opened the closet door and her wedding dress shown like a lost pearl in the dim light. Certain details were lost in the shadows, but she felt confident he could still see all the work and effort that had gone into the dress. “I’m almost done,” she said softly, “Just a little trim left. I’m sure I can have it done by tomorrow.”

William stepped forward and reached forward but stopped shy of touching the dress. “My hands are still dirty,” he said, “but it looks like a lovely dress, Grell. I wasn’t aware that you could sew.”

“I wasn’t able to for a long time,” she admitted, “I honestly didn’t think there was anything to it until I tried.” There was a soft laugh. “I was in for a shock. I think I stuck the needle in my finger more than the fabric, but I did learn. Actually this dress was started years ago, but now it’s almost finished.” She sighed contently. “And soon I can wear it.”

He wrapped his arm about her shoulders. “You will make a beautiful bride, I am sure,” he said, “I have to work tomorrow, but we can get married afterwards if you like. As you said, we have no one to invite. We have ourselves and our rings. Is that what you want Grell.”

“More than anything else,” she replied.

“Than that is what we’ll do,” he said, “We’ll even have some time to ourselves after we get married.”

“What do you mean?”

“Harris is giving me some time off,” he explained, “for Christmas.”

“Christmas?” she repeated, “Is it so close to Christmas already?”

He nodded. “Just a few days away.” He said.

“This is perfect!” she exclaimed, “We’ll have time off for our honeymoon, and we’ll get to spend our very first Christmas as husband and wife. Oh, Will, this is too perfect. It’s like our destiny.”

For a moment he looked almost uncomfortable with her statement, but then his face relaxed. “Perhaps,” he finally agreed, “Perhaps it is.”

She started to move closer when she saw that her clothes were still caked in black blood. “Excuse me, darling,” she said, “I really need to clean up. I’m afraid I’m a bit of a mess.” She took a few steps away before pausing to look over her shoulder. “I would ask you to join me,” she began, “but you really shouldn’t see all of your bride just yet. Not when it’s so close to your honeymoon.”

Laughing at her own joke, she went into the bathroom to quickly clean up, but she couldn’t help but pause when she caught side of her own reflection. While she knew some might find it vanity, she had always thought she had an attractive face, but she had never looked as radiant as she did right now. There was something to the color dusting her cheeks to the sparkle in her eyes that truly made her radiant.

She was glowing with love. Tomorrow she was going to be Mrs. Spears.

 

((x))

 

The body lay silently on the table under the harsh lights. She might have been a pretty young woman in life, but death had not been kind. While her body had been restored, there was still an uncommon paleness to her waxy skin and her blonde hair hung limply about her head. The injuries that had led to her death had all been repaired, but the jagged scars marred that marble flesh. Collins stared down at her as he slowly circled her still form. Although he had paid no attention to her features, she was beautiful to him. Perhaps the secret to truly going life and death lay in this woman.

After circling the body like a vulture, he finally walked over to a nearby desk. He passed over the records that disclosed her information in favor for his scythe. He had been able to find her soul among the countless ones stored in the library, which made her the perfect subject. If he replaced her soul, she should come back to life. The secret might be nothing more than matching the right body with the right soul. It had been many years since he had collected the soul, much less returned one to a body, but it was a simple process. He stabbed the body, which called forth the cinematic records. The woman's memories encircled the room like fragile lace, but they didn't bother attaching Collins. It had been far too long since they had been stored in a living vessel. While the records ran, he concentrated on forcing the soul, which had been stored in his scythe, reenter the body. Initially, he thought that this had been a failed experiment, but then the records suddenly rewound to reenter the body.

The woman's eyes flew open as she gasped in the first oxygen since her death. She coughed loudly and struggled to a sitting position.

"Just take it gently, my dear," Collins said with faux sympathy, "You've had a rather trying experience."

"What happened?' she managed to ask. Her voice was hoarse and scratchy. "Where am I?" She looked about in terror, as her bloodshot eyes grew wide.

"You're fine," he said as he tried to sound kind, "You just need to rest. I'm here to help you."

"Oh...God..." the woman croaked as she brought her hands up to her head. Her fingernails were chipped and broken as she curled them in her limp tresses to tug at her hair. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

Before he could answer, the woman screamed; her voice echoing and reverberating off the sterile walls. She ripped her hair from the roots, but it gave easily without any trace of blood. Although her body still remembered things like breathing and bleeding, it had long ceased needing any of these functions. She clawed at her face and pulled at the stitches.

"Just calm down," he commanded, although the woman seemed to be beyond listening. Her eyes glazed over as she gave a choking gasp and fell backwards on the table with a sickening thud. Even before checking, he knew that despite having her own soul, the woman was dead.

Collins cursed loudly. He had done what that deserter had done. He had filled out her records using dreams and goals. In fact, he had gone a step further by replacing her soul. "What am I missing?" he hissed.

In frustration, he whirled about and knocked the papers from the desk. The fluttered about like injured birds, but one caught his eye. With something like a roar, he swooped down and grabbed it in his hand; crumbling the paper slightly so that the face of William was distorted.

That pathetic waste was mocking him and living happily in the mortal world, but not for long. He would have his army, and then the tables would turn for William T. Spears. Collins was sure the key to life and death was still right here before, and now he had the proper motivation.

Throwing back his head, he laughed madly as he tossed aside his sanity like a worn out pair of shoes.

 

((x))

 

William had always been a patient man. It was simply a part of his character along with a certain careful, diligence, but he found this day’s work to be particularly tedious and the sun’s movement across the sky particularly slow. He did his best not to let his anxiety show, but he knew he had glanced up at the sky to track the time more than once during his work. Harris seemed oblivious at first, but then William caught the old undertaker mumbling to himself what sounded like complaints and hushed curses. William hadn’t been sure that this was directed towards him until the end of the work day, when Harris had sighed loudly.

“Ya might as well put up me tools,” he said, “It seems I’d be getting no more work out of ya. I’m not sure why ya’re so raring to go. It’s really nothin’ more than a few cold days without pay.” He spat on the ground for emphasis.

William only nodded because he recognized that he had been distracted, but he disagreed with Harris that Christmas was just a cold day without payment. While he had never been particularly celebratory, he had always recognized that it was an important holiday for most, and this year it was going to take on special meaning for him. He was going to be facing this holiday as the husband of the love of his life. It was simply the greatest present he had ever received. Without commenting on any of this, William put away his tools and bid the old man a farewell before returning to the cottage.

He walked at first with his steady stride, but his steps quickened the closest he got to the cottage until he was running. It was unexpected and so unlike his usual, predictable self, but it felt fitting somehow. The icy air whipped past him as he ran, but he stopped suddenly as he the cottage came clearly into view. There was something standing by the front door. William’s face showed no signs of emotion as he approached the figure, but his nerves were on edge and he was prepared to summon his scythe. This proved unnecessary when he stepped close enough to realize the visitor was actually Lawrence Anderson. The tenseness fled from his muscles as he exhaled slowly. While the older reaper might bring bad news from their realm, he wasn’t an immediate danger. “Hello, sir,” William greeted.

Anderson nodded towards him. "Good evening, William," he said, "I know it's cold, but I'm afraid I can't let you go inside just yet."

"Why not?" William asked, frowning.

"Because," Anderson answered gently, "a groom should never see the bride in her dress before the wedding."

William had no immediate answer and watched as Anderson picked up a suitcase by his side. "I brought you a suit," Anderson said, "It's not fancy, but it will be appropriate. I also brought you a few other things to use later."

"Not to be disrespectful," William began, "but why are you doing all this? Why is it so important to you that I marry Grell?"

Anderson's eyes widened slightly as if he was surprised. "I told you," he said, "There's some dark times on the horizon, and you need to find your strength now. This love is your strength. That much is purely selfish. I'm thinking of our realm and our future."

"I suppose that does make sense," allowed William.

"But I do have another reason," Anderson said, and William noticed tears in his eyes. "I've known a great love, which I know is something that many can not say. I see you have a chance to experience that, and I don't want you to miss out. Perhaps, I want to experience being able to hold the ultimate love again vicariously through you. I'm not sure, but I know I don't want you to pass up what is most likely your own chance. Do you understand? Does that makes sense?"

William was unsure how to react. He was only just learning to express his emotions with Grell, and he really didn't know Anderson well despite all the years they had been acquainted. Anderson had always been a quiet, somewhat aloof man, and William was a bit uncomfortable. Of course, he had never really taken the time to talk to Anderson, so perhaps this side of his personality had always been there, and William had just never really looked close enough. "It does," he finally answered.

Anderson nodded before turning to knock on the door of the cottage. "Grell?" he called, "William's here. Are you ready for us to come in?"

"Just a minute," Grell called back. The sound of shuffling was soon heard along with muffled giggles, and William wondered what she was doing. Finally, they heard her voice again. "Ready!" she announced.

Anderson opened the door so that he and William could enter. At first, Grell was no where to be seen, but then William noticed the sheet which had been hung in the corner of the kitchen. Although no part of Grell was visible, he could hear her soft laughter from behind the sheet. Apparently that was her way to remain hidden from William's eyes until the wedding, and he couldn't help but admire her ingenuity, but he had little time to consider this as Anderson pointed him on towards the bathroom.

"Go ahead and get cleaned and dressed," Anderson said, "Afterwards, you need to go on to the priest to set everything up. Grell and I go on to the church once things are in order."

William was actually not that accustomed to taking orders, but he only nodded as he walked into the bathroom and shut the door. The water was icy, so he quickly washed away the dirt which clung to him from the cemetery. Although he was typically a very pragmatic man, he couldn't help but think of the act in terms of symbolism. It was like he was washing away the dust from his old life as he took his first steps into his new life with Grell. She might even appreciate such a thought, and he made note to tell her of it later. Now clean, he opened the suitcase and removed the suit packed by Anderson. It was a simple charcoal gray suit that Grell wouldn't find stylish, but William appreciate its simple, clean cut. The suit also fit him well, and he dressed without incident. After making sure his hair was still perfectly in place, he emerged from the bathroom with the suitcase still in his hand.

Anderson was waiting for him, and he nodded with apparent approval at William's appearance. "That suits you," he said; his voice oddly choked by emotion.

William cleared his throat nervously as he set the suitcase down by the wall. "I'll go to Father Walters," he said, "and take care of the arrangements."

"We'll be waiting," Anderson said.

"Eagerly!" Grell added from behind the makeshift curtain.

There was still something odd and surreal about this situation, but William decided not to dwell on that for the moment. The important thing was that if all things went as planned, he would soon be married to Grell and be able to start their lives together. Nothing about this was ideal, but it was still perfect somehow. With a faint smile, William left the cottage to trek across the cemetery to Father's Walter's home.

 William had never taken the time to notice before, but the church itself was an attractive yet humble building. It wasn't as large or ornate as many churches he had seen, but there was a certain eloquence to it's towers and rounded windows. Inwardly he approved because he felt that it was the perfect place for their wedding. Father Walters's home was nearby, as he had said, and it was as plain and unassuming as William's own cottage, but there was a warmth and kindness radiating outward. Although he was nervous, William walked up to the front door and knocked with a confidence he didn't feel.

A few minutes passed and he began to fear that Father Walters was out or had retired to bed early, but finally the door opened and he was greeted by the priest's smiling face. "Hello," he said, "Can I help you?"

"Yes," William said, "I met you the other day in the cemetery."

Recognition lit Father Walter's wise eyes. "I remember. You're name is William, correct?"

"Yes," William replied in a surprised tone, "You asked me if I was married, and I told you that I was not. Well, Father, were you serious about performing a marriage ceremony at any time?"

A wide smile broke out on Father Walter's face. "Absolutely!" he exclaimed, "Are you ready to get married tonight?"

"I am," William replied, "My bride is only waiting on me to get the arrangements in order."

"Then we mustn't keep her waiting." Despite his age, the young man looked almost like a young boy eyeing his presents on Christmas morning. "Just allow me to dress and we'll get the church in order. A wedding is such a blessed event, so please pardon my excitement." He quickly shut the door; leaving William standing alone in the cold, but it wasn't a long wait. Soon, Father Walters emerged and led William to the church where he unlocked the massive doors.

Inside, the stone building was rather cold and looked a bit dreary in the icy moonlight, but the priest hurried to the front where he began lighting candles. One by one, the candles transformed the gloomy interior with their warm, dancing light. Gold gilded paintings stared down lovingly from the walls as an ornate cross winked in the moonlight.  Even the air seemed to change as William stood at the front and just looked about him at the beauty. For far too long, he had not allowed himself to enjoy the simple pleasures, but Grell had changed him so much in such a little time.

Anderson opened the door and peeked inside. "Is everything ready?" he asked.

William looked at Father Walters who nodded warmly. "Everything is ready for us to begin," the priest said.

Anderson stepped back and opened the doors wide. Soon, Grell appeared in the door frame like a glorious painting coming to life, and William felt the breath catch in his throat. Never in his life had he ever seen anything so beautiful. Grell's dress was modest with a high color and long, silk sleeves, but it had been designed to fit and compliment her perfectly. A crimson trim about the collar and ends of the sleeves added just enough color, as did the wreath of dark red winter roses about her forehead which held her shimmery veil in place. She held a bouquet of the same flowers in her trembling hands as she slowly walked towards William; seemingly gliding across the stone floor. Anderson walked with her; holding her hand as gently as she too was nothing more than a delicate bud that had been freshly cut from its stem until they stood before William. Anderson quietly sat down on a nearby pew as Grell took William's hand and smiled. Even through the veil, he could see her eyes glistening brilliantly.

"Beautiful," William said in a whisper like tone as he gazed at her.

Father Walters looked at them both. "I hope no one minds if I say a few words before we begin," he said. When there was no objection, he nodded gently and began. "Love is the most powerful thing in this world," he said, "It's so strong, yet all too often we take it for granted. We think we can find love whenever we need it, so all too often we don't grab hold of it when it's right there in front of us." He paused briefly, as his gaze slipped over William and Grell. "That's one reason I love marriage ceremonies so much. I like joining hearts before God that already cling to one another. I like hearing couples vow to one another and knowing they aren't taking love for granted. That's why I'm happy for William and..." His voice trailed off.

"Grell," she spoke up helpfully.

"That's why I'm happy for William and Grell," he continued as if there had been no pause. "There are hear to promise their hearts to each other and live as husband and wife." He took a deep breath as he tilted his head back as if basking in their love. "Are you both ready?" he asked.

"I am," William answered.

"We are," Grell said.

"Then let us begin. William, do you promise to take Grell to be your wife? Do you promise to be faithful to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and health, to love and honor her all the days of your life?"

"I do," William said. He had never considered the weight and enormity of such simple, small words, but now he felt them echoing in his heart. He had never meant a declaration so much in his entire existence.

Father Walters turned to Grell. "And do you, Grell, promise to take William to be your husband? Do you promise to be faithful to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and health, to love and honor him for all the days of your life."

"I do," she said, as a tear escaped her eyes to slip down her face, "with all of my heart."

"Then love each other as husband and wife," instructed the priest, "Do you have rings?"

Grell giggled softly. "I'm already wearing mine," she said, and she held up her hand to showcase the simple band on her finger. "Do you still have yours, William?"

He was about to say he had forgotten, but he remembered he had felt the weight of it in his jacket pocket. Hoping he had been right, he reached into the pocket to retrieve the simple golden ring, although he had no idea how it had gotten there. "I have it," he said.

"Then let me put in on your finger," Grell requested.

He held out his hand only to notice the slightest tremble in his fingers. Grell's hands were shaking as well, but she managed to slip the ring on his finger, and he could feel its weight. It was almost as if  there was power coursing from the ring to his hand, and he could only smile. It was the power of their love."

"William, darling," Grell gasped, "I'm so happy."

"As am I," William replied. Despite it not being customary, he lifted her veil ever so slightly to kiss her on the lips, which she returned eagerly.

Once their lips had parted, Father Walters touched their shoulders gently. "Go," he said, "and be happy. Spread the love that you share and remember your vows to one another."

"We will, Father," William said, "and thank you."

Their hands intertwined, they turned to walk back down the aisle as husband and wife, but all the seats were now vacant. At some point during the ceremony, Anderson had left, although William had no idea of when or even why. "Anderson's gone," he said.

"Shame, but at least he got to see me in my dress," Grell said, "That old man was always fond of me."

William nodded absently as he thought that maybe why Anderson had been so intent on them getting married. He hadn't noticed Anderson favoring him in the least until the last few days, so perhaps it all had been for Grell. She was worth all this after all.

The night had gotten considerably colder, but their love shielded them from everything as they strode proudly across the lawn. The moon smiled down as the stars twinkled as if in celebration. Beneath their feet, the frost crackled like soft gentle laughter. During all this, they couldn't take their eyes off of each other. It was if they were the only beings in existence in this moment.

When the reached the cottage, William suddenly picked Grell up to carry her. She let out a surprised sound, but then laughed merrily. "Are you going to carry me over the threshold?" she asked.

William looked at her with upmost seriousness. "If you're going to do something," he said, "you might as well do it right."

She laughed in response as he carefully opened the door and carried her inside.

 

((x))

 

Grell stood in the bathroom as she contemplated her reflection. The same joy and love was shining on her face. but there was something hiding just beneath the green-gold shimmer of her irises.

Fear.

She knew that William loved and would be gentle. Plus, this was the very moment she had been waiting on for far too long, but now that she stood at its precipice, trepidation filled her heart. She was worried that she might do something wrong in her own ignorance, or that William didn't want her as much as she wanted him. Even the fact she had only William's shirt to wear instead of sexy lingerie nagged at her mind, but she rationally knew that these were all just foolish fears. She wanted William and he wanted her. Everything else would work itself out.

Her bare feet made no noise on the cold wood floors as she returned to the main room, but she paused to watch William for a moment. In the short time they had been away, their fire had gone out and their small home had gotten quite cold. He had told her to get ready in the bathroom while he took care of their fire. He had apparently done so as a fresh, crackling fire burned brightly and it cast a beautiful golden glow upon his skin. Dressed only in sleeping pants, he was arranging some pillows and blankets in front of the fire.

"What are you doing, love?" she asked.

He jumped slightly before turning to look at her. "I didn't know you had come out of the bathroom," he said, almost apologetically, before looking down at the pillows. "The bed is just a bit too cold yet," he explained, "so I thought we would be more comfortable here by the fire."

She smiled as she walked over to him to sit beside him on the makeshift bed. "That sounds like a lovely idea," she said, "I always did love a nice fire. So romantic."

He looked at the fire quizzically for a moment. "I never really thought about a fire being romantic," he admitted, "I only thought about providing warmth and light. Perhaps I am too practical."

"No," she said, scooting closer, "That's what makes us a good pair. You're the realist and I'm a dreamer." She looked at him as she felt a heat spread in her cheeks that had nothing to do with the fire.

Leaning forward, he ran his fingers down the side of her face before resting his touch on her chin. His lips followed; joining hers with a soft pressure that spoke of promise and passion. She had always loved his kisses, but she could tell there was more behind his lips on this night. Pushing her own fears aside, she ran her hands up her arms and settled on his biceps. The strength he had always kept hidden beneath out of style suits always intrigued her, and she deepened the kiss.

He pushed her back so that she was lying on the makeshift bed and shifted his own weight so he was lying partly on top and partly to the side. Their chests were pressed together, and Grell wondered wildly if William could feel the frantic beating of her heart through the thin fabric of her shirt. She moved her arms so that they were wrapped around his back and kneaded the strong muscles beneath her grasp. He seemed to like this as his lips moved from hers to trail kisses down her neck in a manner that drove her wild. Along with her growing need, the fears were returning with full force and she could stop a tremble from running the course of her body. 

William raised up to look her directly in the face. "Are you okay, Grell?" he asked.

"Of course," she answered with fake confidence, "Why do you ask?"

He didn't answer directly as he moved a stray hair from her face. "If you're scared or want to stop for any reason, please know that it's okay," he said, "I don't want to go farther than you want to yet."

For the first time, she did relax. "I am scared," she said, "Very much so, in fact, but I want to keep going. I've waited for this - for you, and I'm ready. Just....take your time and be gentle."

"I will," he said, "I promise that."

To show that she was ready to continue, she pulled his head down to hers to resume their kiss. There was no hesitation in her movements, and she pushed aside all fears as she opened her mouth slightly to invite his tongue. She had never done this before, but it was as if her body had known all along. He seemed to be reading her intentions as he followed along. She moaned into his mouth when she felt his tongue slide over hers. She started to massage his chest to admire the musculature there as well, as his hand had moved down to caress her upper thigh. His touch was light despite his new callouses, but she had always loved the feel of his hands.

As he again moved down to lick and suck her neck, his weight shifted and she felt his arousal against her thigh. Shyly, she slipped her fingers down his abdomen, pausing only slightly at the waste band of his pants before moving downward. Her touch was as fluttery as a butterfly, and she didn't think he could even feel it. To her surprise, she heard his own soft intake of breath as he moved his face to look at her. "Grell," he said as his moved under the hem of the shirt.

She held on to him tightly as his hand gently caressed her hip before moving to the front. No one had ever touched her there before, and the feeling was far beyond anything she could have even attempted to describe. She moved into hands; almost ashamed at her own eagerness as she clung to his arms. He only smiled gently before he sat up. She was about to ask if anything was wrong when he gently began undoing the buttons; kissing the exposed skin as she went. She felt exposed and vulnerable yet somehow powerful as she was revealed before him. Finally, nothing was hidden as the shirt was undone and moved aside. His own pants were removed and they spent a brief moment merely examining each other. She had no idea how she appeared to William, although he was fully erect, but the sight of him nude was perfection. Beneath the boring suits and regulations, an Adonis had been hiding all along.

He pulled her closer into his embrace as their hands touched and felt. She moaned and sighed, and he did the same as their kisses became heated. Need now rippled on the air like an electrical current, and William reached to the side to pick up something that had been by a nearby pillow. Deep in her mind, she made a point to ask William where he had acquired lube later, but now was not the time for questions. He applied a generous amount to his fingers before meeting her eyes.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

She nodded dumbly for she didn't trust herself with words in this moment.

He circled her entrance before slipping the first finger inside. Despite her intentions, she hissed slightly. She had always known it would hurt, but this was such a strange sort of pain that had no comparison. It burned and felt like she was being tore. Still, she managed to smile for William as he began to move it  about slightly.

"Just tell me if I need to stop," he said.

"Don't," she replied, "I'm fine."

He kissed her. "Just focus on me then," he said, "Just look into my eyes."

Following his advice, she looked up at him to see only the purest love shining in his eyes, and she found herself relaxing despite the foreign pain. "Kiss me," she said, and he complied. A single finger followed the first, but Grell allowed William to swallow all her pain. She knew that this would all be worth it.

Deep inside, the fingers brushed some sensitive place, and Grell moaned loudly. Instinctively, she moved trying to feel that once again, and William complied. The pain was muted and a distant memory as she revealed in this wonderful new sensation. Her erection ached. "Ugh...Will...so.." she couldn't finish her thoughts. All words had been lost.

He seemed to know what she had been trying to say as he removed his fingers and lubed himself. "I'll take it slow at first," he said, "Just hold on to me."

She nodded weakly and allowed him to adjust her hips as he positioned himself. Slowly, he pushed inside and Grell struggled to keep her breath steady. She couldn't imagine what this was like without lube because it certainly hurt with, but she knew that William was right. All she had to do was to hold on to him, and she took hold of his arms as he slid completely inside. At first, there was only the feeling of stretching, burning, and an uncomfortable fullness, but then William shifted. He struck that glorious place once again, and her whole body came to life. "Darling," she gasped, "right there."

He draped his body over hers and kissed her trembling lips. "I know," he said as he began to move steadily.

Their bodies moved as one in the light of the fire as the sounds of their gasps and moans filled the empty space. Never before had she ever experience anything so perfect, as the glorious rhythm continued. Her heart pounded ever harder until a part of her was sure she might just die at any moment, but she no longer cared. They continued with no sense of time or anything outside of themselves and this act of love.

Finally, Grell felt her own orgasm gathering in her lower abdomen. "Will," she moaned.

"I know," he gasped, "Me too." She realized that his movement had become erratic and they were striving for the same plateau together. All she could do was hold on. When it finally hit, she blindly clawing at William's arms, unsure if she had drawn blood, as she hoarsely cried. She felt the wetness between as she began to drift back down.

William soon followed as he emptied inside her. Breathless, he pulled out of her and laid beside her for a minute. "That was simply wonderful," he said.

"It was perfect," she clarified.

Still breathing heavily, he rolled to the side where he had left a pan full of water earlier; kept warm by the fire. Gently he began to clean her, and she put her hand over his. Their matching rings twinkled as she stared down at him. "I love you, Mr. Spears."

"And I love you, Mrs. Spears," he replied.

Removing the sheet they had laid on for a clean one, they cuddled up by the fire to sleep; happy and fulfilled in their love.

 

 


	16. Chapter 16

The weak winter sun filtered through the thick pane on the window and seemed to highlight Grell as she slept. William could only lay there for a minute to gaze at the beautiful creature sleeping comfortably in his arms. Her hair was mussed from their lovemaking, but it was somehow more alluring; like a wild, scarlet halo surrounding a serene face. Her soft skin appeared to glow, and he couldn't resist touching her face with his hand just to make sure that she was real - that this moment was real. As he moved his hand, the golden ring on his finger caught the sun and glistened beautifully, which made him smile. This was reality. He had finally found love.

Their fire had gone out during the night, and he could feel cold air seeping around the blanket. Although he was reluctant to leave her embrace, he knew it would only get colder the longer he waited, so he gently moved from her arms to build a new one.

"Will," Grell mumbled sleepily. She opened her eyes and blinked a few times as she struggled to focus. There were times that he forgot that she still relied on glasses. "Will, darling, where are you going?"

"I'm just building a fire," he said, "It's too cold in here without one." The kindling was nearby, so he broke a few small twigs and arranged it carefully. "How are you this morning?" he asked before striking a match.

"Wonderful," she replied sleepily, "I'm here with you, and that's all I ever wanted."

The fire was starting to catch, so he added some more wood. "Are you sore?" he questioned.

To his surprise, she blushed deeply so that her face nearly matched her hair. "A little," she admitted in an uncharacteristically quiet voice.

He suspected this new found shyness had a lot to do with the fact she had been a virgin up to last night, so he tried to give her a reassuring smile as he softened his voice. "Let me help," he said. He reached into a nearby box to retrieve some salve.

Her blush actually managed to deepen. "You've thought of everything," she said, "Of course, that's to be expected of my dashing prince. I've been meaning to ask you where you got this stuff. Have you been saving it back for me?"

"It was a bit of a wedding gift from Anderson," William admitted.

"Such a dirty, old man," she scoffed, "but, as I said, I was always his favorite. He just wanted to make sure I was treated right I suppose."

"I suppose," he agreed, "Now, roll over so I can take care of you. I don't want you to be in any pain."

"Pain is the price of pleasure," she quipped, but she rolled over all the same. She was trembling slightly as she hid her face as he applied the salve. It was becoming more clear that she was embarrassed, but he wasn't quite sure as to why. They had seen and touched one another with abandon the night before, but this was all still very new to her. As he considered this, however, a new thought occurred to him. Grell wasn't used to anyone caring or looking out for her. While she didn't typically need anyone's help, the realization still angered him. She was fiercely independent, but it was still a disturbing notion that no one had cared for her the way that she deserved.

Once she was treated, William wiped off his hands on a towel before settling in beside her once more. The warm was finally growing warm from the fire, which made him feel rather lazy. "Is there anything you'd like to do today?" he asked.

She wrapped her arms around his back and brought her face to his until their noses were touching. "I just want to lie here in your arms," she said, "Inhale your scent. Get lost in your eyes and become drunk on your kisses."

"As you wish," he said; growing used to her romantic dramatics. Bringing his lips to hers, they shared a kiss as pure and warm as the summer sun, and William could feel the heat spreading through him. While he didn't think her body was ready for sex again so soon, he never broke the kiss as his hands slipped down her body as if trying to remember the landscape of her form.

"Will," she mumbled against her lips as she pulled him closer, "Darling." She seemed to be at a lost for anymore words as he reconnected their lips to deepen the kiss.

A knock suddenly sounded at the door, and they both stopped to simply look at each other. For a second, he could almost convince himself it was simply his imagination, but then the knock sounded once more; louder and more urgent. "Honestly," he muttered as he started to move from her side.

Grell grabbed him. "Ignore it," she pleased, "Pretend we're not home."

It was tempting, and he almost did as she requested, but the knock was repeated, and he could hear the impatience in the sound. "I have to see who it is," he said. He wrapped one of the sheets about his body and walked over to the door. Carefully, he opened it just enough to be able to look outside without allowing anyone the chance to look in and see Grell. To his annoyance, Harris was standing there with an annoyed look on his wrinkled face.

"William," he said, "Ya need ta come quickly," he said, "We have a body that needs to be taken care of right away."

"It's Christmas eve," William stated, "and you agreed I could have this day off. It's cold enough that the body can wait."

"Ya don't understand," Harris insisted, "This...is important." He narrowed his already small eyes. "If I have to be findin' someone else now," he said, "They might be just havin' a new job after this blasted holiday."

William understood the threat well, and he needed to keep this job to keep the cottage and his meager pay. "I just need to get dressed," he said, "and I will bury the body."

Harris nodded. "And ya might to bring this crate inside," he said as he kicked at something on the ground. With another grumble, he turned and walked away as quickly as his lanky legs would carry him. Oddly enough, the man seemed actually frightened by something, but William had no idea what could have scared him so. Dismissing the odd notion, William leaned down and pulled the wooden crate inside the cottage before shutting the door.

"What was that all about?" Grell asked in an annoyed tone.

"That was Harris," William answered, "He needs me to do some work."

"Today?" she cried, "But this is our honeymoon and Christmas eve! I thought the old goat was going to give you some time off."

"He was," he replied, "but I think something has happened. I should be back soon." He opened the crate to reveal a note. "It looks like we got another gift from Anderson."

"Oh!" she squealed as she jumped up. She didn't bother to cover herself as she ran over to William, but he saw no reason to complain. She removed a covering to peer into the crate. "It's food!" she said, "There's a quail, and some chestnuts, and all sorts of fresh fruit. Pops must have brought it for our Christmas dinner! Oh, he is such a sweet man." She continued to go through the box, and William couldn't help but smile at her reaction. He had never realized before how it pleased her for someone to simply show her kindness and caring, and he decided to never let her go another moment without knowing how much she was loved.

"I have to get dressed," he said, "but I'll be back as soon as I can so we can spend the rest of the holiday together."

She stood up to kiss him. "Promise?"

"I promise," he replied.

"Then hurry back," she said with another kiss, "I'll get started on a proper dinner while you're gone."

"You don't have to do," he said, "It is okay if you would prefer to rest."

"You don't understand, darling," she responded, as she wrapped her arms around him, "I want to. This is our first Christmas together as husband and wife. I want it to be perfect."

"It's already the best Christmas I've ever had," he said, "and I'll make sure to hurry back to you."

He could have stood there in her arms forever, but there was work to be completed. With some reluctance, he moved away and quickly dressed. As he walked outside, he felt the cold air slap his body and he longed for the warmth of Grell's embrace, but he was never the type of man to shy away from work. With a determined stride, he crossed the cemetery to the small shed where Harris kept his tools stored. William could see the old man pacing back and forth as he approached, but something told him that it had nothing to do with the temperature. Without a word, William approached him.

Harris must have heard his steps as he crunched upon the frozen ground because he suddenly spun around to face William. "Took ya long enough," he hissed, "Grab yer tools and hurry."

The irritation and fear was evident in his normally coarse voice, so William didn't hesitate to gather the pick and shovel. It wouldn't be an easy to dig a new grave now that the temperatures had dropped, but, to his surprise the old mortician led him to a recently dug up grave. It had been one of the last bodies stolen, which had happened just before William had moved into the cottage. A pale corpse lay beside the grave; her eyes and mouth frozen in an expression of pure terror. Harris seemed to be doing his best to avoid the endless stare of her clouded eyes, but William's focus was on a wound on the bloodless chest. There was no mistaking that mark as it could have only been made by a scythe. He wondered if this was the work of Collins.

Harris nudged the woman with his foot. "Never heard of a stolen body bein' returned before," he said, "and she's not even rotted." He looked up and his fear was now evident. "But I tell ya one thing fer certain," he added, "that wasn't her expression when I planted her." Quickly he turned and almost ran away. "Put her back in the ground," he said, "and then you can go home."

William found it no mystery that the man seemed so upset. As an undertaker, he was used to dead bodies, but not ones whose expressions had changed. Although he wasn't sure how, this woman had briefly been brought back to life. It reminded him of Undertaker's experiments, although he found it difficult to believe that anyone would have repeated those abominations. Shaking his head as if to dispel the thoughts, he decided he would worry about it later.

 

((x))

 

Dispatch was as silent and still as a painting. There were no souls to collect, and work had slowed to the point of nearly ceasing all together. Ms. Fletcher stood quietly in front of her own desk as she listened to the overwhelming silence. If not for her calendar, she would not have known it was Christmas eve. While reapers had to work holidays, there was also some sort of party or celebration in their realm - except for this year. No decorations had been hung nor was their laughter hanging about like garland. For the first time, it looked like their realm was truly dead. This was all Collins' doing, but he had fully taken over Upper Management. People were afraid to say or do anything, and everything was just waiting for the end to come.

Ms. Fletcher sighed softly as she gathered a few files from her desk and turned to leave. There was no safety for her anywhere in this world, nor could she leave, but there would be a little comfort in her own, quiet apartment. Just as she started to walk away, a soft noise captured her attention. She frowned as she turned around. It had to be her imagination, but she could have sworn that the noise had originated from William's supposedly empty office.

She stood for a moment as she glanced cautiously over her shoulder as the closed door. Normally she wasn't so concerned or worried, but she feared she couldn't be too careful anymore. After several minutes of consideration, she walked over and slowly opened the door. "Hello?" she called out as she peered inside.

The room was dark except for the dull light slipping in through the windows. William's desk was perfectly in order, although she had never seen it messy. Despite procedures, no new supervisor had been assigned even temporarily to the position, so no one had used  this office. Ms. Fletcher thought about simply closing the door and leaving, but she couldn't quiet the voice which insisted she knew she had heard something. Against her better judgement, she took a few steps into the office.

There was a flash of movement. Before Ms. Fletcher could even figure out what was happening, the door behind her had been shut and the sharp edge of rudimentary scythe was pushed against her throat. "Don't move," a voice hissed in her hear.

Ms. Fletcher complied, but she thought she recognized the voice. "Emily?" she asked.

As if to answer her name, Emily moved around to face her, but the scythe was still held to Ms. Fletcher's throat. The time since Ronald had passed had not been kind to her. Emily appeared to have lost quite a bit of weight; her eyes looked sunken and her cheekbones gaunt. She almost appeared like the classical image of the skeletal reaper. Only her eyes still seemed to hold any life, but the light in those irises glowed with madness. "What do you want?" Emily demanded, "Why are you looking for me?"

"I wasn't," Ms. Fletcher answered quickly, "I just heard a noise."

Emily stared at her for a few minutes, as if she was judging whether or not to believe her. "You wouldn't be looking for me," she finally said, "You're not loyal to Collins. You were Mr. Spears's secretary." She took the scythe away from Ms. Fletcher's throat. "I should kill you just for being that murder's secretary, but I guess that wouldn't be fair. You didn't kill Ronald. I think he even liked you." With tears filling her mad eyes, she stepped away to stare out one of the windows.

Ms. Fletcher rubbed her neck although she knew she hadn't been cut. She knew she should leave, but she couldn't help but feel sorry for Emily. "What are you doing here?" she asked, "This is the last place I'd think to find you."

"That's the point," Emily replied with a harsh laugh, as she turned back to Ms. Fletcher, "Of course, Collins can find me if he wants. He can always find me." She tapped her temple. "He's in here you know. I hear him whispering and trying to drive me crazy, but I know what he's up to." This odd statement was followed by another unpleasant laugh.

Ms. Fletcher watched as the woman seemed to crumble before her. "I'm sorry," she finally said, "for everything."

Emily nodded. "Thank you," she said, "but it's really not enough. I don't have anywhere to go. Collins pushed Ronald out of my head. He can't talk to me now, and I can't get out to find him. I'm trapped." She turned back to the window and traced her trembling fingers over the glass. "That's why I'm here," she finally said, "All I can do now is wait. Collins can find me, but he's distracted. Maybe he'll forget about me, and I'll have a chance to either bring Ronald back or to kill those who took him away." She glanced over her shoulder. "You should go. It wouldn't be safe to be seen talking to me," she said.

It was the only truly sensible thing she said, so Ms. Fletcher decided to take her advice. With a nod, she left the room and carefully closed the door. Although she feared that Emily was truly beyond saving, she couldn't help but hope that maybe there was some chance for her to find the sanity which had slipped through her fingers.

 

((x))

 

William was able to complete his job fairly easily despite the cold, but the entire time he had been focused on returning home to Grell. This was Christmas eve after all, and he wanted to be able to spend this time with her, but he wanted to make sure that Harris could find no reason for him to have to redo his work. After making sure the ground was firmly packed, he gathered up the tools to return them to the shed. His work was finally done.

Harris stepped out from the shed; rubbing his bony hands together for warmth. "Ya took care of that quickly," he said, "but I got something fer ya." He reached into the shed and pulled out a freshly cut tree. "One of them stupid Christmas trees. Someone gave it to me, but I have no use fer it. Want it?"

It seemed like very little compensation for having to work today when he should be enjoying his honeymoon, but Grell might appreciate some decoration. "Thank you," he said as he took the tree. Some of the needles had fallen off, but the tree seemed to be in fairly good shape.

A dog's bark erupted from somewhere on the far side of the cemetery. As William watched, a large, black dog came running across the grounds; barking at something in the distance. He recognized this as Harris's dog, Beau, and he was curious what had agitated the dog in such a way.

Harris frowned darkly. "Stupid dog," he muttered as he kicked at Beau. Luckily, his foot missed as the dog quickly dodged, but this display upset William.

"Don't do that," he said, "The dog is only trying to watch over the cemetery."

"The stupid mutt can't protect anythin'!" Harris shouted, "Ya want him? Take him. I'm sick of him!" With those words, Harris threw a rock at the now retreating Beau, but his aim was thankfully lacking. This seemed to upset the man, who quickly turned to leave before the dog could react.

Although, he had no idea what Grell thought of pets, William didn't like see a faithful animal treated in such a manner. "Come here, Beau," he said, as he slapped his thigh.

The dog almost looked relieved as he turned his warm, brown eyes towards William. He trotted over, and William saw that the large dog wasn't a puppy nor was he old. He was coal black except for four very large white paws. Happily, it leaned his head up towards William as he wagged his massive tail.

"Good boy," William said and he petted Beau's head. With the dog following and the tree in hand, he walked on towards home. He knew Grell would be surprised, although he had no idea how she might react.

When he opened the door, he saw that Grell had been quite busy. Delicious smells filled the small cottage, and she was hard at work in the kitchen. As he stepped inside, she looked up with a bright smile and saw a dusting of flour on her cheek. "Welcome home, darling," she said, as she quickly wiped her hands on a nearby towel. She took a few steps forward until her eyes fell on Beau.

"Will!" she cried, "A dog? Oh, how sweet! That's such a lovely present." She dropped to her knees, and Beau eagerly came forward to lick her face. She laughed as she wrapped her arms around Beau's big, furry neck. "I had a dog like this once," she said, "This really is the sweetest gift. I'm only sorry I don't have anything to give you."

 He knelt down beside her and Beau. "You've already given the best present I could ever dream of," he said, "You gave me your love."

She laughed softly. "I never knew you could be a romantic," she said.

"I'm not usually," he replied before kissing her. "Harris also gave us this tree," he said.

"We'll decorate it!" she exclaimed, "There's some colored paper that the food was wrapped in, and I can bake up some treats to hang on the branches. Oh, Will! This will be the greatest Christmas ever!"

"Just let me clean up," he said, "and I'll help."

He stood up and walked towards the bathroom, but he couldn't resist pausing in the doorway to look back. Grell was playing with Beau in their warm, loving home. There was food on the stove and a tree to decorated. Truly, Grell was right. This was the greatest Christmas ever.

 

((x))

 

Grell had always had a vivid imagination. There had been many times she had imagined what life with William might be like. She had imagined their house and their quiet times together. In her heart, she had treasured these daydreams but always had this fear that it might be beyond her reach. She had just held on to the daydream; carefully folding it up and storing it deep within her heart. Yet now that this was her reality, she found it was so much better than any daydream. It went beyond her imagination, and her heart swelled with all the love that now surrounded her. Her dreams had not only come true, but this truth had surpassed anything she had ever imagined.

William stepped out of the bathroom, freshly scrubbed, and looked about the kitchen. "Can I help?" he asked.

She looked back at the table. "Why don't you wash eight of those potatoes and put them on to boil with just a pinch of salt," she said, "I want to make  potatoes a la matre d'hotel. Doesn't that sound delicious."

"I've never actually eaten it," he admitted, "I'm more accustomed to simple foods."

"You will love it," she said, as she playfully tapped his nose; leaving a spot of flour. "Looks good on you."

"I think it would look better on you," he replied, as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her deeply.

Finally she pulled away. "I love kissing you, darling," she said, "but I really don't want these cookies to burn. Please tell me you've had thumbprint cookies before."

"I have, but it's been a long time," he stated. Moving away, he gathered the potatoes she needed. Quickly yet carefully he washed them before putting them on to boil. "I'm glad that you know about this sort of thing. I don't usually eat anything special for the holidays outside of the office party."

"Well that's a shame and something we have to change starting now," she announced.

They worked together; talking and laughing in the kitchen while Beau watched carefully for any morsel that might drop to the floor. Before Grell even realized how much time had passed, she heard the clock strike midnight. "It's Christmas," she said.

"And it's starting to snow," William replied, as he pointed to window.

"It's all so perfect!" she exclaimed as he rushed over to embrace him. "Merry Christmas, darling."

"Merry Christmas, Grell."

They swayed gently in the soft light from the fireplace as if they were dancing to music that only they could hear. To anyone who happened to be looking through the frosted windows, they appeared to be precisely what they truly were: two people celebrating their love as much as the holidays.

 


	17. Chapter 17

The fire crackled and danced as it lit the interior of their cozy cottage with its golden light. Grell lay lazily in William's arms; her head resting against his broad chest as she happily stared into the depths of the fire. Outside, it was still quite cold and a thin blanket of snow covered the ground, but they were warm and content. She moved closer; savoring the feel of his muscles and the strength of his embrace. Glancing over at the clock, she smiled at the time. "It's almost midnight," she said.

William turned to look. "Almost a new year," he said.

She sat back to look at him directly. "A new year," she said, "a new love, and a new chance."

They shared a kiss as the clock struck midnight, and Grell felt as if her heart my leap from her chest and simply float away from pure happiness. This was a dream that she never wanted to end. "This  is all to perfect, darling."

"It is," he replied, "It's a shame I have to go back to work day after tomorrow."

She frowned slightly. "Don't even mention that now. Just hold me and let us enjoy this moment." She stroked his arm. "I want this to last forever."

"Nothing lasts forever, Grell."

"Our love can!" she cried.

He pulled her closer, and she leaned against his chest to inhale his scent. "Our love can and will last forever," he agreed, "but I was talking more about the situation. I told you about the body that needed to be reburied."

"Do you really think it was Collins?" she asked.

"That's what I suspect," he replied, "We know he's up to something, although I find it difficult someone would have actually recreated Undertaker's experiments."

"But what would reanimating corpses do?" She wrinkled her nose at the idea. "Dead bodies have no business lumbering about, so why do it? And how did he even return it to the cemetery if the border has been blocked?"

He shrugged. "I honestly don't know," he replied, "It just seems like too much of a coincidence that these dead bodies baring scythe marks would start appearing while Collins is causing trouble. I think the two must be related. I'm not sure why or how though."

"Well," she mumbled against his chest, "We don't really know anything about this Collins other than the fact that he doesn't seem to like either once of us."

"Actually," he said, "I do know one other thing about him, but I had forgotten about it until the other day."

"What's that, my love?" she asked.

He took a deep breath, and his hand went up automatically to adjust the glasses he no longer wore. "I was offered a promotion some years back," he began.

"A promotion?" she asked, jumping back, "Where you planning on leaving me?"

"No," he replied instantly, "I was only offered the promotion, but I didn't accept it."

She smiled as she sunk into his arms once more. "Just couldn't stand to be separated from me, could you?"

Instead of answering, he stroked her hair as he stared into the fire. "Collins was offered the promotion after that," he said, "and he accepted. I only met him briefly during this time, but I got this feeling that he didn't like me, although I never understood why." He kissed her head. "I still don't understand," he continued, "but somehow I think his hatred towards me might be tied into all this."

"He's just jealous," Grell said, "but let's not talk about him any more. This is the first day of a brand new year, and I just want to spend it in my husband's arms."

"And so you shall," he replied.

They sat their quietly in front of the fire, but she could tell he was still worried. She knew there was trouble ahead, but she was truly happy in this moment. Besides, with her love by her side, she truly didn't think anything bad could touch them.

 

((x))

 

Sweat slipped down Collins's face; collecting around the frame of his glasses as he stared through the one way glass. Experiment after experiment had failed, and he was beginning to wonder how Undertaker had ever been successful. He could have his reanimated dolls walk and move about somewhat, but none had any resemblance to intelligence or human thought. He was not creating life but rather corrupting death, and that would not be acceptable. He had to create life.

Unless he wasn't New Death.

That was impossible, he thought as he shook his head with something akin to violence. Sweat flew from the strands of his hair and splattered onto the window, but he barely noticed. He had to be successful. He was New Death, and he would find a way to create life just as the prophesy foretold. With a shaking hand, he pushed back strands of lose hair from his forehead as he focused on the corpse lying on the table in the next room. Collins had been working on a way to overlap previous memories to create someone who truly remembered what it meant to be alive, and now he was experimenting by starting overlap just before their death. The memory of their own death had destroyed the minds of his previous subjects, but Collins hoped that he had solved that problem. With burning eyes, he stared at the body, and he felt his heart leap in his chest when the fingers began to move slightly. An almost mad smile possessed his features as heard the sharp inhale of breath and the expansion of the chest. Part one was successful.

Picking up a clipboard, Collins stepped into the other room and approached the body. His subject appeared to have been a young man in life with closely cut dark hair and sharp features. Clouded eyes looked up at him as he approached, and Collins offered a seemingly friendly smile.

"Where am I?" the man asked in a hoarse tone.

"I'm afraid you were in an accident," Collins replied, "Mr...." He let his voice trail off as he looked at the clipboard and pretended to look for the information.

"Bowen," the man said with a cough, "Anthony Bowen."

"Yes, Mr. Bowen," Collins stated, "You were in an accident, but you are fine. You were just transported to our hospital until you were awake to make sure everything is okay." While he kept his voice calm, Collins was practically dancing on the inside. Bowen was his best subject so far. He spoke and acted like a rational human so far. It seemed that he had finally been successful.

Bowen's eyes grew wide. "Is Mary okay?" he asked suddenly, "She wasn't in the accident was she? Was anyone else hurt?"

"Calm yourself, Mr. Bowen," he said, "No one else was hurt. It was just a freak accident, and you'll be given all the details soon."

"How soon?" Bowen asked, "Why can't you tell me now?"

"Because you are going home soon, Mr. Bowen," Collins said, "Now, just rest. I'll get everything taken care of."

His fake smile never wavering, Collins returned to the other room to make the last few arrangements, but he found that Othello had entered the control room. The scientist was standing near the glass. "You actually did it," he said in an amazed tone.

"I knew that I could," Collins replied, "He's creating new memories over his old ones."

Othello seemed to consider this for a moment. "But, won't that make him forget his humanity?" he asked.

"In time," Collins answered, "but he is alive for the moment."

"Are you really going to let him return home?" asked Othello, "I don't think that's a good idea."

Collins slapped his hand loudly on a counter as he turned his burning eyes angrily towards Othello. "That doesn't matter!" he shouted, "I am the one becoming a god, so it doesn't matter what I do or don't do. You have no business questioning me."

Othello took a step back. "I was just wondering," he said.

"Well, you have no business wondering," Collins replied, "I am the one in charge here. You can be a valuable member of my new world, or you might just have to disappear like the fools of Upper Management. Trust me. No one would look for you if I was to make you vanish."

The threat hung in the air as Othello moved towards the door. "I'm sorry," he finally apologized, "Congratulations on your success." With those words, he left the room, and Collins imagined he could hear him scurrying down the hall.

He almost laughed at the exchange, but there was no time. His experiment had been a success, so it was on to stage two of his plan.

 

((x))

 

The air was icy as Grell leaped nimbly from rooftop to rooftop, but she only smiled with exhilaration. Despite the fact that there was still snow and the ground was frozen, William had been forced to return to work. It seemed that Harris wanted to take advantage of the fact that he was the only one burying people this time of year. Most civilized undertakers waited until spring, so Harris would be the only one getting any business, but of course he wasn't willing to pay William any more. The entire situation was frustrating, and she knew one way to ease her frustrations.

She glided through the air; using only her senses to seek out demons. Their numbers had increased greatly in London since Collins had closed the boundaries of their worlds, and it didn't take her long to happen upon one. He was in his natural demon form, and appeared like a large black feline perched just outside a window of a old man. Grell could hear the man's labored breathing even from this distance, and the demon was practically licking his lips as he watched. No doubt he thought his meal was soon at hand, and a dark smile caressed Grell's face as her chainsaw roared to life. The demon whirled about, but he was far more capable than the ones she had fought earlier. Hissing, he jumped from his perch and landed lightly on the ground.

"I didn't think there were any reapers still in London," he growled, "At least, none that cared what we demons did. I thought they had all been taken care of."

She landed on the cobblestone not to far away from the demon, and pointed with her scythe. "It's not that I care what you do precisely," she said, "but it is so much fun to destroy demons, and no one gets upset. It seems like a win-win situation to me." She laughed as she watched the confusion cross over his features.

"What sort of reaper are you?" he asked.

"Darling, I'm your worst nightmare," she replied, as she lunged forward.

The demon jumped to the side and swiped at her with long black claws that had been stained with much blood over the years. She avoided the claws with ease as she brought her chainsaw about to sever the right arm. The demon howled in pain and slashed blindly with his left, but Grell only smiled as she did the same to that arm.

He glared at her with glowing eyes. "You are more a demon that I am," he growled.

"I don't see how that can be," she replied, "I don't munch on souls like boxed chocolates, and I do have some mercy." She slowly approached and allowed him to focus on each deliberate step of her boots. "I'm going to end your life so you don't have to suffer," she finally added.

She saw the momentarily flash of fear in the creature's inhuman eyes as she lunged forward to slash through his body. His scream was a brief but brilliant flash as his thick blood shot forth. She smiled as the metallic smell painted her face and filled her nostrils.

But then another smell caught her attention. It was the smell of death.

Spinning around, she saw a young reaper looking at her; his terrified eyes swimming behind his large glasses. "It's you," he said in a hollow tone, "I actually found you."

She gritted her sharp teeth. While she far preferred to fight demons over other reapers, she never backed down from a fight.

 

((x))

 

William's muscles ached and burned despite the cold temperatures, and he could feel the same tiredness as before creeping over his body. He tried to ignore the sensations as he concentrated at the task at hand, but each swing of the pick or push of a shovel only increased the pain. A part of him couldn't help but wonder how long he would be able to keep this up, but he wasn't sure if that was the demon whispering it's foul lies or the same old fears that had always slipped about the recesses of his mind. With something of a growl, he forced himself to remove the last bit of dirt before climbing from the freshly dug grave. To his surprise, Harris was standing there with a somewhat sour and disappointed look upon his face.

"Good job," the old man growled, "but that's the last fer today."

"The last?" William repeated, "It is only a little past noon. How can all the work be completed?"

Harris spat on the ground and wiped at his mouth. "These fools aren't used to burying in the winter," he said, "They be thinking spring's the best time to plant the bodies. Business is slow." He eyed William carefully. "I might have to cut ye wages," he offered.

William barely restrained himself from grabbing the skinny man and lifting him from the ground. "My wages are meager enough," William said, "You know I need work, but I have a limit." He huffed loudly. "This situation is already unfair."

"Life's unfair, lad," Harris replied, "Only death is fair." He spat again, and William had to turn his hide to hide his face. The old man was wrong. Death was no fairer than life. Things were always unfair, but William had finally found happiness, and he wasn't going to give it up so easily."

"But I won't be cutting yer wages," Harris said, "At least, not yet. When folks see we still are working, they'll bring us their dead. But there is nothing else to do today. Go home if ya want. I have no work for ya."

 William didn't trust that Harris was just letting him go home, but there seem to be little else he could do at this moment. "Do you want me to come in tomorrow?" he asked.

Harris nodded. "I'll find something fer ya to do," he muttered.

Feeling a bit uncertain about his job, William quietly gathered the tools and put them away. Harris had already left the cemetery, so William decided to walk home. It might be nice to surprise Grell by returning early for a change. He kept his stride steady as he walked in order to hide the fears nagging his mind.

He opened the door without knocking. "Grell, I'm home," he called, as he stepped inside, "I was allowed to return early."

His only answering was the steady padding of paws as Beau trotted up to him and tilted his big head up for William to pet. Despite his growing fear, he gently rubbed Beau's head before walking around the cottage. The only sign he could even find was a pot of soup simmering on the stove. It had been turned to a very low heat, so it appeared Grell had set it to cook even if she wasn't around. He checked the soup and found it was cooking nicely.

Without any real idea what to do next, he cleaned up to wait for Grell. He knew that she had undoubtedly gone off to find demons, and he frowned slightly as he washed. He had never told her that he didn't want her to continue hunting the beasts, but he had hoped that she would have given up such a dangerous hobby. A part of him knew he should admire her for trying to keep up with souls, but his worry overshadowed any other feelings.

Quietly, he sat down in a chair to wait as Beau sat protectively at his feet.

 

((x))

 

Still covered in the demon's blood, Grell approached the young reaper. She expected him to pull out his own scythe to attack, but he simply dropped to his knees as tears filled his eyes. "What are you doing?" she demanded, "At least fight me. It's pathetic to simply give up, even if we both know that you have no chance."

"I don't want to fight you!" he cried, "I never did! I just want to do what I thought was best for our realm! Collins lied to me!" He pulled down his glasses to wipe away his tears.

She paused slightly, although she didn't lower her guard. This could be an act, and his comrades could be waiting to catch her off guard, but she didn't think that was the case. She was the greatest actor ever seen among the reapers, and this boy's words and actions seemed genuine. "What about Collins?" she asked.

"He said that you and Mr. Spears were a danger to our world," he said, "and that we had to stop you. Several of us came to help him search, but then he just left a few of us behind and closed the border." He dropped his gaze as if he was studying the cobblestone. "It was all a trick. He just wanted to get rid of the reapers he didn't want. We were being expelled and we didn't even know it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," she admitted, as she walked closer. "I've met you before, haven't I? You're name is Perky or something?"

He almost managed a laugh. "Perkins," he replied, "Although everyone called me Buddy." He turned his gaze back to her and she saw just how pale and ragged the young reaper looked. "Mr. Collins brought us all out here supposedly to look," he explained, "but then he said that he and most of the reapers had to leave. I think he told us he was going to closer the borders, but I don't remember now. All I know, is that we soon figured out we couldn't get home. We were trapped, and the demons were on the rise."

Wiping his nose with the back of his sleeve, he stared at her sadly. "We became nothing more than sport for the demons," he said, "They'd hunt us down, and we weren't even doing anything to them. It was just a game, but I had to watch all my friends die. We tried to fight, but there were just too many demons, and none of us had been out in the field much." He laughed bitterly. "That was Mr. Collins's goal," he said, "He left a bunch of inexperienced reapers all alone in a world that had turned hostile. Maybe we didn't fit in with the world he was trying to create."

"So, what do you want me to do?" she asked, "You already said that your friends are dead, and you were sent to kill me. How do I know you won't run back to Collins?" She smiled dangerously. "The best thing to would be to end you now. This will be the final act of your little tragedy."

"Please," he said, "Show me mercy and kill me now. Collins can still find me. He put something in my head. He called it a chip, but it's in there buzzing. I can hear it, and I think he can find me if he wants to." He scratched his blonde head. "It's driving me crazy. Please, kill me. Save me from this torment."

Her smiled disappeared from her face as she pointed her chainsaw at him. "I told you before it's pathetic to act like that," she said, "Stand up and face me."

Shaking and shivering as if he was cold, Perkins stood up slowly. "Please," he begged.

Slowly she advanced towards him, but she dropped her chainsaw to his side. "It wouldn't be any fun to kill you," she said, "I refuse to feel any guilt for killing another reaper just because he gave up."

His surprise was apparent as he shook his head wildly. "What are you talking about? Please! You have to end me."

"No!" she shouted as she poked him in the chest, "You have to find the will to live! We are death, but that is really what keeps us strong. We still want to live. We always did deep down, no matter what we thought or did." With those words, she turned to walk away but then she heard the final breath of the man the demon had been watching earlier. She had all but forgotten about him, and she turned to look at the window.

Perkins had pulled out a death list. "It looks like Eugene Hammonds has died as scheduled," he announced.

"You still have a list?" Grell asked.

There was a slow nod. "I'm not sure why I brought it with me," he admitted, "but it just felt right at the time. Now, I only use it to avoid the dying to try and avoid demons." He sighed loudly.

"Give it to me," she insisted, as she held out her hand.

"Why?"

"I want it!" she said, "Look, I'm stuck here too. It's lovely since I'm with my darling William, but I'm restless too. My job was to collect souls, and I intend to do just that - and kill a few demons along hte way."

Perkins's eyes grew wide as he handed over the death list. "You're nothing like they say," he said slowly.

"Of course not," she said coyly, "No words could ever describe me."

"You're right," he said slowly, "You're beyond words. You're not crazy. You're amazing." He shuffled his feet for a moment. "So, you want me just to go?"

"Unless you want to hang around to see if anymore demons show up," she replied.

He shook his head. "I've seen enough," he said. Turning, he started to walk away, but then he paused to glance back at her. "I don't know how I could ever be of any help to you," he said, "but when the time comes, I want to stand up to Collins - for you and myself." Without another work he leaped up into the air and disappeared into the distance.

She pondered for a few minutes over his odd words, but decided not to waste much time on the matter. She wanted to collect this soul so she could hurry home and finish the soup before William came home.


	18. Chapter 18

William was still sitting quietly in the chair when Beau whined slightly and turned his large head towards the door. "What is it boy?" he asked, but then he heard the turn of the doorknob as Grell opened the door and stepped inside. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw him, but her expression soon softened as she smiled.

"I didn't expect you to be home so early," she said, as she took off her coat. Her clothing was splattered was blood as was her face. "It's a nice surprise, though, unless..." Her voice trailed off as her face grew dark. "That bastard didn't fire you after making you work so hard did he?"

"No," he said, "It's nothing like that. Work is just a bit slow, so he let me go home early."

"Well, that's good," she said, "He works you too hard, so you need a break every now and again." Walking over she kissed him gently on the cheek. "I'm going to get washed. Would you turn the heat back up under the soup? It should be ready soon." She started to walk away.

"Grell," he said as he stood, "You were out hunting demons again, correct?"

She looked back at and gave him an odd look. "Yes, darling," she said, "I do get so bored cooped up in here. I told you that it is a great stress reliever, and I can collect a few souls while I'm at. Oh, that reminds me!" She reached into her pocket and pulled out a slim black book. "It's not my choice of design, but I have a death list. Isn't that marvelous? I don't have to hunt blindly now."

"Marvelous," he repeated tonelessly.

"Darling, what's wrong?" she asked, "You seem upset."

"I'm not," he said harshly before turning away, but he knew that he had just lied. "Well, I suppose that I am mildly upset."

"But why?"

"I'm worried for you," he said, "You are a marvelous reaper, but there's a lot of demons here now. I worry....that one day I'll come home and you won't be here."

She looked at him for a few minutes before laughing lightly. "But you used to send me out on assignment all the time!" she exclaimed, "And demons were always an issue. Why are you so worried now?" She chuckled a bit more, as she removed her coat and started to undo a few buttons. "You can be an odd man at times, my sweet William. You would think that you'd be thrilled that I'm actually going to try and keep up with souls that would be lost otherwise."

Her words made quite a bit of sense, but he still couldn't shake his uneasy feeling. "Where did you get the death list?" he asked, "I know you couldn't go back to our realm."

There was a slight pause. "I crossed paths with a young reaper," she admitted, "I think his name is Perkins."

"Was he one of those sent by Collins?"

She nodded. "But he didn't want to fight me," she said, "Poor boy seemed rather lost actually. Said that Collins abandoned him and a bunch of other reapers here, and that he's the only one still alive."

William frowned darkly. "Why am I not surprised?" he mumbled.

"Darling?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, "I was just wondering how low Collins will sink." He sighed as he pushed back a few strands of hair from his face. "You want to keep collecting souls then?"

"Of course," she said, "It's my job after all." She laughed lightly. "Just trust me, dear. You'll see."

Her request stopped him in his tracks. He hadn't trusted anyone in a long time, but he realized that she had earned his trust despite her past mistakes. They were married and in love. He had to trust her now. "Okay," he said, "I will do my best, but I'm not used to worrying about someone. Please be patient with me."

"If you'll be patient with me," she sang, as she began to undo the rest of her shirt. "Now, I think we might want to clean up."

"I've already washed," he said, but he soon realized her words had a second meaning as she slowly undressed in front of him; his heart beating harder as her porcelain was revealed.

"Oh, I think you're a dirty, dirty man, Mr. Spears" she replied. The shirt was gone, and she danced towards the bathroom as she undid her pants, "You need to join me in the shower."

He didn't need a second invitation as he shed his own clothes and followed her; all worries and fears momentarily forgotten.

 

((x))

 

Collins walked around the table slowly; like a predator circling its prey, and his eyes were as cold as two pieces of emerald. Before him, the man who had been known as Anthony Bowen lay quietly on the table. To the untrained eye, the man only appeared to be dead with his ashen skin and jagged scars, but Collins could see the gentle rise and fall of the man's chest as he breathed. In truth, Bowen didn't actually need to breath. His cellular growth and processes had ended the moment his soul had been removed, but his body remembered breathing. It had been an involuntary act for all the man's life, so it had continued after death. It was an amusing discovery about this process, but Collins didn't have much time to waste on observation. He had kept Bowen here long enough. Now, it was time for action.

He was now ruler of this realm. Upper Management had been basically dissolved, although he allowed a few fools to retain their positions under his superior leadership. He wasn't sure if they had accepted his true identity or if they were simply afraid, but the results were same for now. They'd come to accept it soon enough or they would find they no had no place in this world he was so carefully shaping. It was as simple as that.

Seeing Bowen was completely sedated, he marched across the room and to push a button on the wall near the one way glass. "Othello," he commanded, "Come in here."

The door opened and Othello carefully stuck his head inside. His typical, carefree smile had gone as he looked at Collins with upmost seriousness.

And perhaps just a touch of fear.

"Yes, sir?" he asked respectfully.

"Is the body ready for transport?" Collins demanded.

Othello nodded. "He's unconscious," came the quick reply, "Although he should wake up in a few hours."

"Perfect," Collins said, "I will have plenty of time to transfer him then."

There was an awkward pause, and Othello shuffled his sandals softly. "If you don't mind," he began, "How are you going to get him to the human realm? I thought all access had been sealed off?"

Collins furrowed his brow as he stared at the scientist. He knew his control over Othello was tenacious at best, but he had hoped that he could maintain that control for longer. Unfortunately, Othello was asking too many questions, and now it appeared he was trying to learn the secrets of traveling between worlds when portals were impossible. "Never mind that!" he snapped, "You need to get back to work. We have more souls to match with bodies. If this test is a success, we must start creating our army!"

There was another moment of hesitation as doubt flashed in Othello's eyes. "Yes, sir," he finally said before carefully closing the door.

If Collins hadn't realized Othello was probably watching him through the glass, he would have cursed or yelled, but he had to retain his composure for the moment. After all, Othello couldn't know that he would soon follow all the fools that had defied Collins.

Soon.

 

((x))

 

Grell had never been so happy as she stared into the fire while lying in William's arms. They often spent their evenings like this, but she always found herself almost in disbelief. Although she had done her best to hide it, there had been a lot hurt in her life. If not for William, she would have given up on love a long time ago, but she had seen his heart early on. Even when people thought he was rejecting her, a part of her had known they were destined to be together. She looked down at their intertwined fingers, and brought his hand up to her mouth so she could kiss his knuckles.

William pulled her closer. "I love you," he whispered in her ear; his breath tickling the sensitive skin.

She laughed at the sensation. While she loved the physical aspect of their relationship, such as their shared time in the shower, she couldn't help but think that these quiet moments were even more special. "And I love you," she said, "I always have."

"I know that," he said, as he pulled back slightly, "I only wished I had let myself accept it," he added, "but I do have something else I wish to talk to you about. It's about that soul you collected today."

"Do we have to talk about that now?" she groaned, "I just wanted to spend quiet time with you in front of the fire as we discussed how desperately you loved me."

"I'm serious," he said, but she could hear the softness in his voice, "We have to figure out a way to store the soul until we get back to our realm."

"I can just store it in my body or scythe," she quickly replied, "I've done it before when I have a full schedule."

"But now it would only make you more of a target for the demons," he said, "We're facing a dark time like we've never seen before and..." His voice trailed off.

"And you're worried about me," she finished for him, "Darling, I told you already. Just trust me."

"I do trust you," he said, "but I can not stop worrying. Carrying around souls when there are so many demons about is like waving a steak before a hungry lion."

"But I don't really have any other options," she said.

"Maybe you do," he offered, "Don't you remember in class when they described how to create a soul containment unit?"

"Was that the thing with the dolls?" she asked, "Honestly dear, I zoned out during that lecture. I didn't figure it would be necessary. Besides, we don't have a doll here."

He shook his head. "You really weren't paying attention," he said, "The instructor only used a doll for the demonstration, but many items can be converted." Looking about the small cottage, he seemed to notice something in the far corner. Standing up, he walked over to the door where he picked up a decorative jar. "This is perfect," he announced.

"Do you remember how to do it?" she asked, as she pushed aside a damp strand of hair, "I certainly don't."

"It's a good thing you're so talented with a scythe, Grell," he said, "With your study habits, I doubt you could have done so well in the academy otherwise."

She smiled lazily. "You know I'm just gifted," she replied, "and in more ways than one."

He returned her smile before turning his attention back to the jar. As if he had been in class only a few days earlier, he confidently chanted the words as he held his hands about the jar. This was a bit of ancient reaper magic that had been abandoned by most, but it certainly was helpful to them now. The jar began to glow, and the air in the room briefly cooled. "It's done," he finally said, "Go ahead and put in that soul you already have."

She sauntered over to him; exaggerating the roll of her hips with each step. Locking her eyes with his, she placed her hand over the opening of the jar as she willed for the soul to leave her body. She felt it slip past her fingers as it slid into the jar as if it was its natural container. "Good job," she congratulated, "Competent as always, Mr. Spears."

"Thank you, Mrs. Spears," he replied before turning slightly and patting his leg. "Come here, Beau," he called.

The large black dog happily answered the call; his large, brown eyes staring up at William warmly as he wagged his tail.

"Guard this jar," William commanded, "Don't let anyone near it. Okay?"

Beau barked as if he understood the order, and he laid down in floor in front of the jar. He had been given his job, and now he seemed content to do as he had been told.

"Now that that's all taken of," Grell said, "I think it's time we go to bed."

William tilted his head as he looked down at her. "Are you tired?" he asked.

"Not in the least," she replied mischievously.

 

((x))

 

The street was mostly dark as someone had neglected to light the lamps, and Collins could feel the chill in the as his breath rose about him in an icy cloud. While the cold no longer had a real effect on him, he still found it uncomfortable and hoped to be done with this job soon. Standing quietly, he watched as Bowen looked around slowly as he studied his surroundings. "Is something wrong?" Collins finally asked.

"I don't know," Bowen answered slowly, "Something just seems...off somehow. It's like it's changed."

Collins managed a soft laugh. "It's just that you've been away for a long time," he said with fake reassurance, "but it's all the same. Don't worry about that." He patted Bowen on the shoulder. "Why don't you go ahead. I'm sure your young wife is waiting for you. She has missed you."

"I missed her," said Bowen, and he lurched forward on stiff legs. His movements have begun to degrade slightly, so he looked a bit like a bad marionette.

Collins stood back in the shadows and watched carefully. From his location, he heard Bowen knock on the door after finding it locked. A few pregnant minutes passed before the door was finally opened, and a frail figure stepped into the door frame highlighted by a dim light from inside.

Suddenly a thin, high scream filled the night.

Barely holding back a laugh, Collins turned and walked into a nearby alleyway. He could hear a commotion building at the house, but sadly he could not stay and watch all that was to unfold. He still had too much that needed to be done.

Reaching into his pocket, Collins produced a small, golden key and held it up as if trying to find the doorknob to which it fit. A brilliant light shot forth from the key as a gold portal opened up before him. Even with the boundaries closed, this key could still create portals for it was one of the tools of the ancient reapers, and destined for his use. At one time, there had been four of these keys; set aside for New Death and his court, but this key was all that remained. Thankfully, it was all that he needed.

Not turning around to see the chaos he had created, he stepped through the portal and disappeared from sight.

 

 


	19. Chapter 19

Beneath the slate gray sky, Grell stood tall upon a rooftop as she hummed a happy tune. She glanced at the death list one more time, although she knew she still had some time before the next scheduled death, but it just felt good to have a list again rather than to randomly hunt down the dying. It was getting harder to detect them from just sniffing out demons. There were so many in London lately, she could smell their collective stench rising up like a putrid fog. Had he known about this, William might have expressed concern for her safety, but she was no worried. It just added the necessary excitement to a job she had done and loved for the last century. She was just placing the list inside her waistcoat when a thin, high scream reached her ears before it was cut off unnaturally short.

She turned in the direction of the scream without any real expression. While she had no real concern for human affairs beyond their deaths, the terror in the scream had piqued her curiosity. As she had time to spare, she quickly jumped down to search for the source. Dirty snow lay bunched in piles, but she saw the red blooms of freshly splattered blood. Her heart beat faster in anticipation as she turned the corner but paused when she came upon twisting, convulsing bodies. They weren't dead or even dying in any manner she had ever seen, but their movements were like poorly directed marionettes.

Old snow crunched underfoot as she walked closer to examine the fallen people when suddenly the smell of fresh death passed over her like a wave. It was a smell she knew all too well, but it was stronger and more powerful somehow. She spun about just in time to see a creature like a Bizarre Doll before it's clamped its rotten teeth on her arm.

She yelled out in rage as she jerked her arm away. Thankfully she had left her beloved coat at home as the Doll had ripped completely through her shirt to rip the soft flesh of her arm. With a fluid motion, she brought her scythe around and brought it to the creature's neck. It had no time to react before it's accursed head was removed completely from its shoulders and it fell into a heap onto the ground.

Standing over the fallen Doll, she took in several deep breaths of the icy air. Somehow Collins had managed to actually approve upon Undertaker's design as this creature had been faster and even stronger somehow. She looked down at the wound on her arm, and found that it burned and throbbed. Cursing quietly, she jumped gracefully into the air as she hurried from the area. It was time to collect the soul.

 

((x))

 

William shovel suddenly stilled, as he turned his eyes to look up and out over the horizon. He had been busy all morning, although he had no idea where Harris had gotten the sudden surge in business, but he had felt an unexplained fear stab his heart like an icy pick. He wasn't the kind to believe in bad feelings or warnings, but the fear had been so tangible and overwhelming. "Grell," he whispered into the distance.

"What are ya doin'?" Harris mumbled from his spot leaning against the tree. His normal speech was slurred, and William could smell the alcohol on his breath. He couldn't help but wonder if Harris's drinking was connected in some manner with his sudden increased business, but he knew it was better not to ask.

"I was just concerned," William admitted, "for my wife. I had a sudden fear for her." He turned his head again as he stared off into the distance. "Perhaps I should check on her." He started to lay the shovel aside.

"Not right now," Harris slurred, "Ya got work to be doin' now. No slackin' off!" He slapped the tree as if for emphasis.

"It would only take a minute," William said as he narrowed his eyes.

Harris took a few stumbling steps forward. "And it will only take ya a minute to lose yer job!" he exclaimed, "Then ya and ya wife will be out on the streets."

William looked at him steadily as he weighed his options. A part of him wanted to tell the drunken undertaker exactly where he could stick this job, but he knew that would only backfire. Jobs and housing were hard to come by, and he couldn't let his temper lead to him and Grell being without suitable shelter. Besides, he had no concrete reason for fearing for Grell's safety. She had asked him to trust him, and he wanted to do his best to comply to her wishes. Besides, Grell was strong and could take care of herself.

After the pause, William took hold of the shovel and resumed his work. Seemingly satisfied that the issue was resolved, Harris returned to his slumped position against the tree and he began to grumble under his breath.

William didn't bother trying to listen. Every few minutes, his eyes would shift to stare out into the distance as the fear still clung to his heart. No matter how many times he told himself that Grell had to be okay, he couldn't silence the worry that nagged at the back of his mind.

 

((x))

 

As the day slipped quietly by on dainty feet, Grell began to feel unusually tired as her injured arm continued to throb and ache. She paused in her pursuit of the final soul for the day to rub her arm as she leaned against a brick building. The coolness of the bricks felt good, and she allowed her head to fall back as her tired eyelids closed. Perhaps she was no longer used to a full day of collecting souls, but she can't help but wonder if there was something more to her tired state. One of the best things about her new life was her newfound energy and resilience. At one time, she had loved pushing her body to its new limits, but now she just wanted to crawl under a warm blanket and sleep. Still unconsciously rubbing her arm, she pushed away from the wall as she walked down the street towards her final target of the day. She would collect this final soul before returning home to rest.

Each step became more difficult; as if she was trying to walk through thick sludge. Her vision blurred as the road before her seem to warp and twist. A blistering heat rose from the wound in her arm and enveloped her body. Her strength gave way, but she felt more like she was floating rather than falling to the ground. The sound of her body hitting the stones was distant and vague. While she had no idea what was happening, she knew she was in trouble.

"Will," she gasped weakly, "Darling, I need you."

She thought she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, but she wasn't sure if it was reality or an illusion as the fever was slowly taking over her mind. "Will?" she asked; her voice coming out in whisper.

A dark chuckle answered. "I'm afraid not, little reaper," an unfamiliar voice replied.

She tried to look up, the dark figure overhead was blurry and instinct, but the smell was unmistakable. "A demon," she said quietly with a mirthless chuckle, "That figures."

"It does," the demon replied, as he squatted next to her. She felt claws gently move her hair aside to trace the contours of her face, but she was unable to move away. "Considering you are sleeping with one," he added.

"Will's not...a demon," she tried to shout, but her voice was growing weaker. She knew she was losing consciousness and she would soon be entirely vulnerable to the creature by her side.

"Keep telling yourself that, Little Red," the demon said, "After all, you are the one that was chosen. You have to believe that."

Her voice failed her before she could ask what he meant by the odd statement. Despite her struggle, she slipped beneath the black waves of unconsciousness to the sound of the demon's chuckle.

 

((x))

 

William didn't resist the urge to run home the moment that Harris had determined he was finished with his work. The old man had seemed more particular and demanding when drunk, but William had held his tongue and did as he was instructed. Once everything had been put away, he had raced home; hoping Grell was waiting for him. "Grell!" he cried out as he through open the door. His heart fell as he found that only Beau was waiting on him.

Stepping inside, he looked around for any sign of Grell. Unlike before, there was no food on the stove nor any sign that she had done anything before leaving. He tried not to take this as a bad sign as Grell was easily distracted, but the fear that had stabbed his heart now encircled it; threatening to cut off his circulation. He tried to tell himself, once again, there was nothing to fear. She was strong and could protect herself. He had to trust her, but he couldn't deny he needed to trust himself as well.

He looked down at the black dog at his feet. "What do you think, Beau?" he asked.

In all reality, he hadn't been expecting any real response beyond the dog wagging his tail at the sound of his name, but Beau whined loudly and walked over to the door. With another whine, he scratched the door before turning and looking at William with his large, brown eyes. While he was no expert on animals, Beau certainly appeared worried. "What is it, boy?" he asked, and he walked over to the door.

Beau scratched again, so William opened the door. The moment he did, Beau let out a loud bark and started running at full speed across the cemetery. William immediately started following, as he knew that this was not simply a dog needed to relieve himself. Beau was tracking something....

....or someone.

Beau never slowed as he reached the edge of the city and started down the streets nor did William. Normally, he would have hated to appear in public with a dirty, disheveled appearance, but he didn't even take the time to cloak himself. If something was wrong with Grell, he didn't want to waste a single moment. His feet pounded on the cobblestones, but his heart beat louder as he mentally prayed that Grell would be okay.

The twisted and turned through the streets, and William was shocked by all the demons he sensed in the area. They had practically infested the streets; a fact he had been ignorant to as he mostly stayed in the cemetery or the cottage. Grell probably hadn't been worried by this fact, but William was becoming terrified. He had no idea what he would do without his new wife and partner for his unnaturally long existence.

Finally, Beau led him down an alleyway, and William felt partial relief when he saw the mass of red hair lying prone. He had no idea of her condition, but at least he had located her. Finding new strength, he willed his feet to move faster as he neared the figure, and was about to call out her name, when a dark, shadowy figure suddenly stood up next to Grell. William skidded to a sudden stop as he called his scythe to his hands as his eyes locked on the demon.

The figure solidified to take the form of darkly handsome man; similar to that of that beast Michaelis, but with longer black hair and ice blue eyes. The unnaturally red lips curved into a sinister smile as a silent laugh lit up the blue eyes. "You must be darling Will," he said, "So, we finally meet face to face."

William grimaced. "I do not know you, beast," he growled, "Nor do I wish to. Now, get away from her."

The demon chuckled. "I was only protecting her," he said, "She is important after all. Of course, there's no use with you here." With a shrug, the demon suddenly jumped backward onto a nearby roof. "Watch over her, carrier," he said.

William only briefly thought about giving chase. As much as he hated letting a beast that had dared stand over Grell go free, he had to attend to his love now. Still wary the demon, William dropped to his knees to check on her. Even though his gloves, he could feel the heat radiating from her body. The fever had to be burning her up inside, and the fear finally pierced him. He finally had the love he had always dreamed about, and he feared he was losing her.

Quickly, he gathered her up in his arms. "Let's go home, Beau," he said; hoping the dog understood since he wasn't going to be taking the streets. He leaped into the air to use the rooftops to get home as quickly as possible. He shoved the door of the cottage open and rushed inside to lay Grell on the bed. "Please be okay," he said, as he stroked her face, "You have to be."

Grell moaned softly. "Elijah," she whispered, "Why did you leave?"

"Grell!" William cried, "It's me, William. What did that demon do to you?"

"It wasn't the demon," a voice said behind him.

Whirling about, William found that Anderson had returned. Without explanation, the older reaper rushed forward  and propped Grell's head up slightly as he produced a vial. "We have to get her to swallow this," Anderson said, "There's not much time."

William helped as he trusted Anderson, but there was still so many questions whirling about his head. "What is that?" he asked, "And what's happening to Grell?"

Anderson waited until he had managed to get Grell to take most of the contents of the vial. "It's Collins and his version of the Bizarre Dolls," he finally answered, "He makes their records run backwards, but it cause a sort of virus in their body that is easily passed on through a bite." He stood up as he looked down at Grell. "That medicine should help control the fever," he said, "but now the rest is up to Grell. If she can't fight off the virus and stop her records from going in reverse before she reaches the end of the records..." His voice trailed off."

"What?" cried William, "What will happen?"

Anderson looked at him sadly. "Then Grell will die," he said.

 

((x))

 

Collins walked slowly down the length of the room as he examined the rows of neatly laid bodies. It had taken a long time to match all the records and set up the processes, but it was worth it. While he hadn't stayed around to watch all the mayhem, his first doll seemed to have been a success. He had heard the screams of surprise, and the doll itself had acted as if he was still alive - at least at first. By now, he would have degraded, but it was still enough. He had succeeded where the deserter had failed. He had created life where there had only been death.

Reaching into his pocket, he produced the key to open a new doorway. His army was ready to be released unto the world; ready to plunge it into absolute chaos. This was his world now, and he could do as he wanted. His title of New Death could no longer be denied.

Perhaps even Spears and Sutcliff would be flushed out.

He smiled at the thought as he opened the portal.


	20. Chapter 20

There was a certain peace inside the stable. While her nose was normally easily offended by musty odors, the sweet smell of hay was actually pleasant and comforting somehow. For the first time in days, a smile came to her face as she happily brushed her horse, Blaze; the stallion more than contented to receive the attention. "You're a good boy," she said softly as she arranged his long mane neatly.

The door to the stables flew open and the bright sunlight flooded inside as the hay chaff danced about. Squinting a bit in the light, she looked up only to see her sister, Katherine framed in the bright light. For the briefest moments, Katherine looked in her direction and they almost locked eyes, but then she turned quickly away at the last moment. "The stables are not a pleasant place today, Jane," she said, "There's a horrible smell in there. Let's go down by the lake instead." She could hear the distant agreement of her youngest sister as the door was shut and she was left in the shadows. Silently, she simply turned to attend to her horse since he didn't ignore her.

"If you don't mind me saying so," a voice suddenly said, "your family doesn't treat you very well."

She jumped because she had thought she had been alone, but turning she saw it was only the new stable boy her father had hired.  She had only seen him from a distance, but his mop of platinum hair was hard to miss."Perhaps I do mind," she replied, but then she smiled loudly, "but I don't think it's precisely a secret."

"It's wrong, if you want my opinion," he said, as he stepped forward, "I'm Elijah, by the way."

She smiled softly. He wasn't a bad looking up close, and she suddenly felt a bit shy. "My name is Grell," she said softly.

"I know," he said, and the admission brought a blush to his freckled cheeks. "So, uh, why do they do that? Your family, I mean. Why do they go out of their way to ignore you."

Grell turned away slightly to hide her face from him. "It's all a game that Pearl has them to play," she said.

"Pearl?" Elijah repeated, "You mean Lady Sutcliff? Why do you call your mother by her first name?"

"She is not my mother!" Grell exclaimed loudly, which caused a few birds to shift and fly about the loft.

"Oh," Elijah said, "So who is?"

"Someone else," Grell muttered, as she started to turn away.

He grabbed her arm. "I didn't mean to upset you," he said, "It just seemed really unfair the way they treat you. I...I just wanted to talk and maybe get to know you a little better."

Grell's heart jumped into her throat as she turned slightly to look at him. No one had ever paid this much attention or talk this nicely to her before. Her father wasn't mean like her stepmother or sisters, but he rarely acknowledged Grell's presence when he was home, which was rare. "You want to talk?" she asked.

Before Elijah could answer, the barn door flew open with a thud as a rush of unseasonably cool wind filled the area. "Grell," a voice whispered on the wind, "Grell, come back to me."

"Is anything wrong?" Elijah asked, "You look so pale. The wind just opened the doors. Nothing else."

"I thought I heard someone call my name," she replied, but then she shook her head. "It must have been my imagination," she added before looking up at him with a sunny smile. "Come on. I know the perfect place where we can talk."

Taking him by the hand, she led him out into the sunshine and away from the shadows that clung to every aspect of her life.

 

((x))

 

"Grell!" William cried, "Grell, come back to me!" Despite his desperate words, the figure on the bed only stirred slightly as she slipped deeper into the coma caused by the Doll's bite. Tears began to prick William's eyes as he held on to her cold hand. "Please, come back," he pleaded.

"It's all up to Grell," Anderson said, "The fever has broken, but she is still reliving all of her old memories. She has to break free of her records on her own."

"Isn't there anything we can do?" William asked.

"We can only watch and hope," Anderson replied, "For now, there is no cure for the disease carried by those creatures Collins created."

William turned back to Grell as he stroked her pale face. "I hate him," he said, "I hate him worse than I ever hated even that foul demon Grell used to flirt with. He's one of us, but yet he'd do all of this. And for what? For him to take some position of power? I never stood in his way, nor did Grell. I would have gladly faced the punishment for my crime, but no one else needed to suffer."

Anderson laid his hand on William's shoulder. "You stood in his way by simply existing," he said, "He made you his enemy, but the time will come for you to face him. Hold on to that anger, but, more importantly, hold on to your love for Grell. That's the only way any of us make it through this."

Grell mumbled something in her false sleep, but, before William could make out the words, Beau began to growl low and menacingly. The normally quiet, meek dog jumped to his feet where he continued to growl at the door. His fur was raised along the contour of his spine as his usually gentle brown eyes were squeezed into angry slits. A loud noise from somewhere in the cemetery seemed to be what have triggered the dog's sudden change in demeanor.

William quickly glanced at Anderson; silently telling him to stay next to Grell, before he jumped to his feet and hurried to the door to open it. His heart nearly stopped in his chest when he saw a few of Collins's Dolls wandering about the cemetery. Now outside, he could hear the screams erupting from all around him, and he realized that Collins had released multiple dolls. The city was under attack.

"Collins has released an army of those things," Anderson said, as he looked over William's shoulder.

With a fluid motion, William summoned his scythe. "Stay beside Grell," he ordered, "I'll take care of the ones here in the cemetery. They can't get near Grell in her weakened state."

"What about the others?" Anderson asked.

William looked off into the distance for a moment; inwardly wincing at the screams that drifted on the night air. "I wish I could help them," he said, "but my duty is here protecting Grell. I know how horrible that might sound. I want to help the others, but my job has never been to interfere with human lives. Besides..." His voice trailed off.

"Besides?" prompted Anderson.

"Besides, Grell is the most important thing to me right now," he added, "I have to protect her first."

Anderson smiled. "I was hoping you would say that," he said.

William didn't bother to ask why Anderson felt that way. Extending his scythe, he left the small cottage to confront the Dolls, although none seemed to have noticed him yet. Keeping a safe distance from their teeth, he quickly plunged his scythe into one's head and watched as it fell to the ground. Another finally looked at him and lurched in his direction, but he expertly aimed his scythe to pierce it in the head as well, and it fell in a rotting heap on the ground.

Beau growled, and William turned only to see one approaching the cottage from behind. He leaped into the air and stop the creature before it could even touch the small home with its foul hands. More of the creatures were coming, and William stood his ground. With Beau by his side, no one was going to touch or hurt Grell.

 

((x))

 

Collins stood on a rooftop watching as his glorious Dolls did their work, but he couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed. He had created life and proven his position in the reaper realm, but neither William or Grell had made an appearance. He had figured that a disaster of this proportion would have drawn out those rejects so he could have finally dealt with them. Perhaps their non-appearance was proof of how disgraceful they had become. Even the sounds of a thousands souls dying was enough to capture their attention. Perhaps this meant that neither was a danger to him, but Collins wasn't ready to take that chance. They had to be disposed of properly.

As he was considering this, a wretched scent attacked his nose, and he spun around to face a demon standing on the far side of the roof. It had only partially taken human form, probably since it knew there was no reason to hide its true nature from him. It was a tall creature with black scales and claws, although the face was still mostly that of a handsome, dark haired man. Collins summoned his scythe, which he had modeled to be more like the traditional scythe as he squared off with the creature.

"Are you that ready to die, beast?" Collins asked, "Do you know who I am?"

"I know you are the reaper that's responsible for this great feast," it replied, waving his arm to indicate the city, "I suppose I should thank you." It laughed lowly.

"This wasn't for you," Collins replied, "Are you with him?"

"Him?"

"The demon inside the deserted reaper," Collins clarified.

There was another dark laugh. "Demons typically don't work together. It goes against our ideals. Of course, we do like to watch over those who might help us." It slowly walked towards him.

"Like this reaper?" Collins asked.

"The reaper is of little help to us. Perhaps in the future, but not now. No, now you are the one helping us. We've never been this strong or this well fed." It walked over to the edge of the building and looked down. "Thank you," it said, "Now, excuse me. I think it is lunch time."

The demon jumped from the building. The Dolls basically ignored it, and there were plenty of souls that were being left uncollected, but Collins only watched in a detached manner. These people had to die in order for him to reach his potential. They were being sacrificed for the greater good.

 

 ((x))

 

Grell watched from the window as the carriage slowly pulled away, and she felt her heart drop. Whenever her father left, she knew that Pearl and her sisters would torment and abuse her every chance they got. They hated her, and the sad truth was there was no one there to love her. Her mother had given her up when she very young, and her father had taken her in as law and society would recognize her as an heir. She understood all this, and saw this was the source for Pearl's hatred of her, but Grell had been given no choice in these matters.

The door to the room opened, and Grell froze. She didn't have to turn around to know Pearl was approaching but her heavy steps across the room. "There you are," she hissed, and she grabbed Grell's arm.

Grell knew better than to struggle. She had learned that one early in her life here. Despite the cruel fingers digging into the tender flesh of her arm, she didn't pull away or even make a noise. She simply allowed herself to be dragged from the room and towards the stairs that led to the attic. Without a single word, Pearl shoved her into the attic and locked the door.

Early in life, Grell had been terrified of enclosed spaces. She had screamed horribly the first time Pearl had locked her away in this musty space, so it was still thought to be a perfect punishment. Grell was still unsure why she needed to be punished, but she didn't dare tell anyone that she had grown to like the attic. There were so much to look through up here; old dresses, books, paintings, etc., and no one was here to hit or yell at her. Here there was no one to hate her.

But there was no place where anyone loved her.

Silent tears fell as Grell made her way to the tiny, dusty window to look out at the beautiful landscape. She could see the flower petals dancing on the breeze.

"Grell," a quiet voice called, "Grell, I love you."

She cried harder. If only she could believe the voice.

 

((x))

 

Ms. Fletcher stood in her darkened apartment and she stared out at the silent, still realm as she hugged her arms around her body. There was something so wrong, like a dark beast crawling through the shadows of their world, but there was nothing she could do beyond wait. Her only hope was that somehow everyone and everything here wasn't destroyed. Her teakettle whistled in the kitchen, so she moved away from the window to step into her tiny kitchen.

A loud knock suddenly sounded on her door, and she paused. Even in the best of times, she rarely had visitors as she was a bit of a loner, but things were more dangerous now. She momentarily considered pretending to be out, but the teakettle made that impossible. Trying to settle her nerves, she removed the kettle from the heat and walked to the door. There was another knock before she could answer, and she tried to keep her voice steady as she spoke. "I'm coming," she called before unlocking and opening the door.

She didn't immediately recognize the small man with the mass of brown, curly hair and large eyes, but he didn't appear to be a danger. "Yes?"

The man smiled nervously. "Ms. Fletcher?" he asked, and she nodded. "My name is Othello. Pops sent me to get you."

"Pops?" she asked, "But why?"

"He didn't give me all the details yet," Othello answered, "He said I was to get you and take you someplace safe. Not only that, you can help me. He's told me to set up some sort of doctor's office or something." He held out his hand.

She took a step back. "I'm not sure," she said, "I haven't heard from Pops in a long time." In truth, she had no idea if she could trust Othello or if this was simply a trick. Collins could have easily sent this man.

"I know things are scary right now," Othello said, "but I'm taking a chance too. Dear Grell and Willy-Poo need someone in their corner, and I'm willing to take that chance. What about you?"

Despite the gravity of the situation, Ms. Fletcher laughed at the nickname for William. "I don't think I've heard anyone call him Willy-Poo before, and you better never let him hear you call him that," she said.

"So, are you coming?" he asked.

She nodded. "But I'm not coming alone," she said, "Someone else is coming with us."

Othello frowned, but he said nothing as she disappeared into the bedroom. She knew that Pops would want her to do this.

 

((x))

 

There had been no attacks from the Dolls in the past hour, and William was taking the time to kneel by Grell's bed and hold her hand. "She's growing colder by the second," he said, "I need to build up the fire."

 

"I'll take care of it," Anderson said, "but I'm not sure it will help." He worked with the logs. "She's getting close to the end of her memories, William," he added.

"She can't be," William insisted, "It hasn't been long enough, and she hasn't woken up yet."

The fire slowly came back to life. "The memories go faster in reverse," Anderson said, "And you can tell because she's growing cold and pale. She doesn't have much time left."

"I refuse to let her go," William said, "I won't let her go." He leaned closer. "Wake up, Grell! You have to. Come back to me!"

She didn't move, and Anderson watched over to touch her head. "I think she only has a few minutes left,"  he stated, "Please, Grell, come back to us."

"I won't let you leave us!" William cried, "I won't let you."

"She's at the end of her memories."

"No!' William screamed, "No!" And the house began to shake.


	21. Chapter 21

The night had grown silent outside the cottage with the exception of the occasional distant scream. Collins's dolls had seemingly moved on, but fear still clung to William's heart. He was kneeling beside Grell; holding her hand in his, as he watched her carefully. Anderson stood nearby, but he neither moved nor spoke, and Beau only whined occasionally. Even he could tell that something was wrong, but everyone was at a loss as to what to do next. They could only wait and watch Grell.

Her skin had taken on a ghostly pallor, and her limp hand felt icy in William's grasp. "Please, Grell," he begged, "Don't leave me. You can't." Tears stung his eyes, but he saw no change in his wife. She lay as still and silent as a winter's night.

"She's fading," Anderson said, "If she doesn't wake up soon, then I fear it will be too late."

"No!" William shouted, holding Grell's hand tighter, "I refuse to let her go. She is not going to die here."

"Son...William," Anderson said, "I know you tried to protect her, but she's too far gone. You did your best."

"I'm not letting her go!" William cried again, "I'll never let her go!" As he screamed, he felt a change come over the room. The cool, still air had been replaced with a peculiar stale warmth that was neither pleasant nor unpleasant.  It simply existed. The light was different as well. The room had been dimly lit, but now an odd hue like that of the sun just before it dips below the horizon filled the space. As William tried to understand this, he realized he was no longer standing in the simple cottage by the bed. Grell, Anderson, and even Beau had vanished like shadows, and only he existed in this strange, stale void.

"This is your child," a woman's voice suddenly announced from behind him.

Turning, William saw figures standing in the distance on what appeared to be a dirty street corner. One was the woman whom he had heard speaking before, and she looked oddly familiar to him, although he knew he had never seen her before. Her dress had been high quality at one time, but now it was torn and dingy. She looked like misplaced wealth with her once fine dress and courtly manners, but she had obviously been on the streets for more than a few years. The hair piled high on her hair needed washed and combed, and there was too much makeup on her handsome yet far too thin face. William had seen cases like this before. She had grown up in a fine home, but something (or someone) had let her to life on the streets; selling her body to survive.

The man she was addressing was her opposite in many ways. Stout where she was thin and richly dressed in the finest fabrics. Yet, his manners were ill as if he had never been taught proper behaviors. He routinely blew his nose with a yellowed handkerchief, and his eyes were firmly fixated on the woman's breasts rather than her face. He ran a hand through his thinning hair and smiled lecherously at her bosom. "Oh?" he asked, How can you be so sure?" There was a teasing, mocking air to his voice.

"I am sure," she repeated hoarsely. "Look for yourself. No one in my family has hair such as this."

She jerked her arm, and a small child who had been hiding behind her full shirt was pulled into view. Although tiny and malnourished, William immediately recognized that this child was Grell, and he felt his heart stop as he realized that he was in Grell's cinematic records and watching her earliest memories play out before him. "Grell," he cried desperately.

To his surprise, she turned her haunted eyes his way and looked directly at him. She shouldn't have been able to hear him, but it was clear that she had, but she had been the only one. The man and woman continued to talk and play out the scene.

"My mother did have red hair," the man conceded, as he reached down to put his pudgy fingers beneath Grell's narrow chin to lift up her face. "But the lad doesn't look anything like me."

William winced at watching Grell being examined like some sort of stock animal. "Grell," he said, "Come to me. You have to escape this memory."

While she couldn't pull away, Grell did turn her eyes back to him, and reached towards him with he free hand. It was clear that she wanted to escape, but she didn't seem able to do so. Her hand opened and closed a few times as if reaching for him, and he tried to run to her side, but his feet refused to move. He was firmly stuck in the role of the spectator; possibly watching as the love of his life faded from his grasp forever.

"I tell you that the child is yours," repeated the woman, "and you can give him a better life."

The man let go of Grell to stroke his chin. "I do need a proper heir," he said in a jovial manner. It was clear he had wanted to take Grell all along, but he had been teasing the woman. Whether or not he was convinced Grell was actually his child remained unseen, but he clearly wanted Grell. "What did you say the name was?"

"Grell," the woman said.

"All right then. Come along, Grell. Come with me. I'm your father." The man reached to take Grell's hand.

"Don't go with him!" William screamed, "Come to me! I love you, Grell! Come to me!"

There was a brief pause, and William watched in horror as Grell's hand was nearly placed in the man's grasp, but then a strange smile lit Grell's young face. With a sudden movement, she jerked her hand free and began running towards William. Behind her, the scene continued to play out its narrative even though she had left until it slowly grew dim and faded.  With each step towards him, she became older, and William literally watched as she grew up and then blossom into the reaper that he both knew and loved. His heart soared as she took the final steps and jumped into his arms. He never wanted to let her go. Even in the nothingness that surrounded them, he felt full and content.

The odd light faded, and William found himself standing once again in the small cottage. Anderson was looking at him with what appeared to be a mixture of surprise and happiness, and Beau was wagging his tail happily. He looked down into his arms and felt relieved to see Grell's bright, lively eyes staring up at him. "You saved me," she said, as she leaned her head against his chest, "I knew you would, my darling. I just knew you would."

"I'd do anything for you," he said, "but I don't know what I did precisely or how. One minute I was here, and the next I was..." His voice trailed off as he sought the right words.

"You were in Grell's records," Anderson clarified.

"But how did I do that?" William asked, "I didn't know such a thing was possible."

Grell giggled. "Your love for me gave you the strength to do the impossible," she said before yawning loudly. Although it was clear she had recovered from the poison, she was apparently still tired and suffering some lingering effects. William gently laid her back on the bed so that she could rest.

Walking over, Anderson clapped William's shoulder and looked at him directly. "Grell's partly right," he said, "Your love did let you do something that would have be impossible for most, but it wasn't impossible for you. Remember that." Leaving William to puzzle over his words, Anderson walked towards the door. "I think most of the Dolls are gone now," he said, "but I'm going to check the city to make sure. Stay safe, both of you, and I'll be back later."

The cottage door shut firmly behind him, and William stared at it for a moment before placing his hand on Beau's large head. "What do you think he meant by that, boy?" he asked, and Beau whined almost as if in response.

Grell had fallen back to sleep, and William didn't want to disturb her. Instead of crawling into bed to get some much needed rest, he decided to pull up a chair so he could sit by Grell's bedside. His plan was to watch over, but as soon as he became comfortable, he fell asleep.

That was a mistake.

 

((x))

 

Anderson made his way carefully into the city; keeping a wary eye out for any Dolls that might still be walking about. Most had already fallen in rapidly decaying heaps, but he wasn't going to take any chances. The smell of death clung greedily to the air and clouded his senses, yet the stench of demons still stung his nostrils. They were apparently feasting on all the lost souls, and Anderson's heart ached for the people. They would have to suffer because of Collins's arrogance and selfishness.

But was he being selfish as well?

He knew he had to follow the prophesy that had been revealed to him a century before as well as make up for his past mistakes, but so many were suffering. It wasn't just the people here. William and Grell were suffering as well, and Anderson couldn't even tell them the entire truth just yet. They couldn't know that there were still obstacles ahead. They couldn't know what was hovering just on the horizon.

Sighing loudly, Anderson pushed aside all the obtrusive thoughts as he stepped around the dead bodies and mourning families. He needed to gather supplies, and this might be his last chance. As he stepped past an alleyway, however, a low chuckle reached his ears.

"My, my," a voice hissed, "You're certainly different from the other one."

Anderson halted in his steps as he prepared to summon his scythe. He didn't have to turn around to know that the speaker was a demon. "Really?" he asked, "And how is that?"

There was another chuckle. "You actually pity the people who have died," the demon replied, "I can see it in your eyes. While he is the one causing all this, you would prefer for it to end."

"And what of it?" Anderson asked, "Do you wish to fight me?"

"There would be no point," the demon said quickly, "Besides, we both know reapers will soon be valuable to us demons. For now, you are not our enemy, as long as you don't stand in our way. But, I don't think that's the case with YOU at all. You're going to protect our interests." There was another laugh that slowly became more faint until it disappeared. Anderson knew that he was alone, but he still turned to look in the alley to make sure it was truly empty.

After a few minutes, he continued on his trek to gather supplies, but it was hard to ignore what the demon had said. After all, it was the truth.

 

((x))

 

William knew that he was dreaming. It was an odd sensation, but he also realized that he wasn't able to wake up just yet. Once again, he found himself in a garden, but it wasn't a pleasant environment. The plants were gnarled and spindly with jagged thorns and blossoms that he knew they were poisonous. Careful not to touch any of the plants, he walked down the stone path until he came to the table. Martin was sitting there, sipping at a thick, red tea, and he smiled at William as he approached. The tea clung to his lips and teeth creating the illusion he was drinking blood. "Look time, no see, Willy boy."

"I could have gone a lifetime without seeing you again," William growled.

Martin laughed. "Oh, I'm always here, sweet William, and you'll never be rid of me." He took another sip of tea. "Especially when you're weak," he added, "And that little stunt you pulled with Grell earlier." He stood up and took a few steps closer. "When you're at your weakest, I am at my strongest."

William frowned as his hands balled into tight fists. "But I'm still stronger," he said.

"Oh, I'm not sure of that," Martin replied, "Even your little collar won't stop me forever. One day, I will take over. I'll be the one living your life." He laughed loudly. "I'll be the one holding Grell's pretty little hand and going back to the reaper realm. Imagine a demon being in position of power." He stepped closer until their noses were nearly touching. "And you'll only be able to watch. I'll destroy you're supposed wife and you world, and you get to watch."

William swung quickly with full intention of slamming the demon who hid in the form of his brother with his fist, but Martin was suddenly on the far side of the table laughing. "You can't fight it, Willy," he laughed, "And you can't fight me."

"I will fight you," William said, "I have to."

Martin was suddenly in his face again; moving so quickly that William couldn't follow his movements. "Fight me, then," he said.

William tightened his fist once again and swung.

 

((x))

 

Grell woke up slowly; feeling refreshed and rested, only to look over and see William sleeping in the chair next to her. She smiled as she looked at him. Just being by his side made her feel safe and secure. After all, he had done what was thought to be impossible just to safe her. No one had ever loved her like that before. She stretched out slightly as she watched him sleep.

Deep in his dream, his face tightened. He began to mumble and twitch in his sleep, and it was clear he was having a nightmare. Sitting up in bed, she moved closer. "Will?" she asked.

"I...you," he said, "I have to."

"Will," she said again, and she reached out and gently shook his shoulder. "Wake up, darling. You're having a bad dream."

Suddenly, he swung his fist, and Grell barely had time to react. She jumped backwards, and his fist connected with her shoulder rather than her face. She cried out in surprise as she fell backwards onto the bed. "Will!" she cried.

His eyes flew open and he looked over at Grell sitting on the bed. "What happened?" he asked, as horror began to wash over his face, "Did I hit you?"

"I dodged mostly," she said, rubbing her shoulder a bit. "I think you were having a nightmare."

"That's putting it mildly," he said. Standing up, he shook his head. "I have to get out of here," he said, and he took a few steps towards the door.

She jumped to her feet and ran after him. "Wait," she said, "What's wrong, darling? Where are you going?"

Turning slightly. "I have to get out of here," he replied, "You can't trust me, Grell. I just tried to hit you."

"Only because you were dreaming," she stated, "Besides, I have to trust you." Seeing that he calmed slightly, she wrapped her arms around him. "You saw my records," she continued, "Parts of my past that I've never shared with anyone, and I trust those with you." She laid her head against him. "I never wanted to relieve my past," she said, "but it wasn't so bad this time. Despite how bad things were, I could feel your love. I could hear you calling out for me; wanting to rescue me." She held him tighter. "I never felt what it was liked to be loved before."

The tension had mostly faded from his body. "I do love you," he said, "and I would do anything to save you." He turned around and looked into her eyes. "There's just times that I'm still really afraid," he admitted, "If I ever hurt you, I could never forgive myself."

"You won't hurt me," she said confidently, before taking his hand, "Now, come back to the bed. We need to talk."

He allowed her to lead him. "About what?" he asked a he sat down.

"About my past," she answered. Taking a deep breath, she sat down beside him and took his hands again. "I know some of what you saw might have been confusing, and I want to tell you about it." Despite everything, old tears came to her eyes, and she could feel herself began to shake.

He wiped away her tears. "You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," he said.

"I want to," Grell said. She steadied her nerves as turned to concentrate on his face. "I think what you saw was when my mother handed me over to the man she claimed to be my father," she began.

"I believe so," he said.

"My mother was a whore," she blurted, "She claimed to have been from a good family at one time, but they had turned her out, but I don't remember much of her. Basically, my earliest memory was her handing me over to a man she said was my father. I doubted she knew for certain. I doubted anyone knew."

He stroked her face. "I'm sorry," he said.

"My father wasn't a bad man," she added, "He mostly wanted an heir, but he never paid attention to anything around him. His wife and daughters hated me, and took every opportunity to make my life miserable." Tears began to flow easily now. "I was so desperate for love," she admitted, "I was begging for it. I think that's why I clung to Elijah and then slim hope that someone could love me."

"And I do love you," he said, "I'm so sorry you had to go through all that."

"It was worth it," she replied, "because now I have you."

Smiling, she leaned closer for a kiss, and he quickly complied. Her tears of sadness dried on her cheeks as she held to him. Her strength. Her love.

Suddenly, her jerked away, and she could see the terror on his face. "I'm sorry," he said, "I can't do this now." He jumped to his feet and ran towards the door. "Harris probably needs me to work," he hurriedly said before disappearing - leaving Grell alone once again.

 

((x))

 

Deep in his mind, William could hear the demon laughing. He had claimed that he was enjoying the kiss with Grell along with William, and William couldn't allow that. The demon could never touch her. He wouldn't allow it.

Quickly, he ran across the cemetery, but he could feel the demon rising and growing within him with each step. His eyes began to burn, and William briefly wondered if they were now a glowing red as he felt that he was now losing control. Just as Harris came into view, William heard the laughter once more, but now the sound was issuing from his own mouth.


	22. Chapter 22

The laugh continued to issue from his mouth, and William felt the anger rising and bubbling to the surface like putrid water, but he knew that these were not his thoughts or feelings. Distantly, he heard the faint sound of the collar about his neck cracking, and his heart sped up with panic. He was no longer in control. He could only helplessly watch as his body walked steadily towards Harris and feels his hands clench into tight fists as he approached the older man.

Harris looked up from the shovel he had been leaning on, and narrowed his dull eyes. "What's so funny?" he demanded as he spat crudely on the ground. Shaking his head. "I don't care if ya have gone a bit dotty," he said, "There's a lot of work ta do today."

William felt his mouth move, and it was his voice that fell from his lips, but it was not his words. "There's not going to be any work done today, old man," he growled, "I'm sick of being mistreated by scum like you."

Darkness passed over Harris's uneven features. "What was that?" he asked, "I'm yer boss, and we both know ya need this job." Harris confidently strode forward and jabbed a dirty finger into William's chest. "Now get ta work!"

With a fluid motion, William grabbed Harris's hand and twisted it until he heard the bones snap. Harris's face contorted to a mask of pain as he fell to the ground and held on to his injured wrist. "Yer crazy," he moaned.

"That's only the beginning, old man," William said, and he brought back his leg to kick the fallen man.

_NO!_   William's mind screamed, and he managed to stop his leg just before his foot made contact. He was shaking as he slowly regained control over his body, but he knew the damage had been done. "I'm..." he began.

Harris crawled away hurriedly before struggling to his feet. "Yer fired!" he yelled as he clumsily ran away, "Yer fired!"

William stood there for a minute helplessly as he watched Harris's retreated figure. Harris had been right. He did need this job. While the old man hadn't said that he had to move out of the cottage, but William had no way to pay the rent even if Harris did allow them to stay. He had done it. He had failed Grell and himself.

And the demon continued to laugh.

The anger rose up in him again, but this time it was directed at himself. He had been a fool to think that he could simply pretend to live happily with Grell with wife. He couldn't trust himself. He had to get out here.

He had to run.

Tears of frustration and anger blurred his eyes as he ran as fast as his legs could carry him. The grass of the cemetery gave way to cobblestone as he found himself turning and twisting through the streets of the city before finally collapsing in a dirty alleyway. Lying among the refuse, he desperately tried to clear his mind so he could figure out what to do next.

"Mr. Spears?" a voice asked nearby.

Spinning around William found himself staring into the face of another reaper, and he ground his teeth tightly. All he could think was that this was one of those that had been sent to capture Grell and him, and he could never let that happen. "You will not take her away from me," he growled, and this time he allowed the demon to have his way just a bit as he lunged forward to kill the young reaper. Although he could see that this stranger was begging for his life, the words didn't touch his ears.

Before he could strike, however, a traditional scythe suddenly appeared before his nose. "That's enough William," a stern voice stated.

 

((x))

 

Dust swirled about in the dark, and Ms. Fletcher sneezed a few times before Othello managed to turn on the light. "Sorry," he apologized, "I haven't had a chance to clean it yet."

Ms. Fletcher squinted as her eyes adjusted to the sudden glare of light. Sneezing again, she sat the small box she carried down nearby as she looked around. "Where is this place?" she asked. It was a low ceiling dark room that seemed to stretch into the shadows. There were rows of cabinets and shelves along the walls and boxes covered most of the floor. There were no windows and the only visible door was the narrow one they had used to enter the room.

"Something left over since the days before," Othello muttered.

"What?"

"Sorry," he apologized, "From what I was able to gather, there are other rooms like this built throughout the realm, but they're carefully hidden." He sighed as he pulled down a nearby cobweb. "At one time, the borders between our world and other worlds used to be....closer for want of a better word. There was a worry that we might be invaded." Quietly, he walked through the room and pointed at the different shelves. "This was a secret place to hide special souls and even a few reapers if necessary."

Ms. Fletcher was amazed. "I never even knew that there were secret rooms," she said.

"Hardly anyone does," he replied, "They're all but forgotten. I think that's why he thought this would be a good place to hide."

"Who?" she asked, "Who thought it would be a good place?"

"Pops," he said, "He's the one who showed me how to find this room and told me what to pack." He gestured with his arm. "I've gotten food already and some other supplies. Pops said we should stay here so Collins won't be able to find us."

She hugged herself slightly as if cold. "Everything's so scary and different now," she admitted, "I wish we didn't have to hide like this."

Othello nodded. "It's like things just changed overnight," he said, "but Pops seems to think better things are to come." He pushed a box with his foot. "I have a lot of medical supplies," he added, "Mostly just things I was able to take from here and there, but Pops told me it was very important." Turning towards her he gave a tired smile. "We need to make this into a makeshift clinic."

"A clinic? Does Pop thinks people are going to be hurt?"

"I think people have already been hurt," Othello answered, "and more will be. At least we have Pops on our side."

"That's good at least," she said. The box she had set down shifted slightly, and she reached down to remove the still injured pigeon. "He even saved Rosalind. He brought her to me after she had nearly been killed, and I've been taking care of her," she explained, "When Mr. Spears returns, Rosalind will be waiting on him."

Walking over, Othello gently touched Rosalind's head. "And Willy is going to return," he added, "I know he will."

Ms. Fletcher returned Rosalind to her box before she and Othello set about tidying the room. They had a lot to work to do, and they had no idea when this clinic might be needed.

 

((x))

 

William slowly turned; his eyes traveling up the scythe until he was staring directly at Anderson. "Stay out of this," William growled, "and leave me alone."

Anderson shook his head. "I can't do that, Will," he said, "Not when you're acting like this." He glanced over at the other reaper. "Perkins here isn't your enemy. He's not Collins nor is he working for Collins any longer."

"That's right!" Perkins cried desperately, "I don't want to fight."

Throwing out his hand, William summoned his own scythe. "Fine," he said, "I'll fight you instead. This is all your fault anyway." New tears pricked his eyes. "You told me to stay with Grell, but I can't. The collar broke, and I can't trust myself. You should have known." With a roar of frustration and anger, he lunged at Anderson.

Anderson jumped out the way. His own scythe didn't have the reach of William's, but he jumped down to the street behind William. "Don't fight me," he said.

"Shut up!" William screamed, "I can't trust you. Why should I? I know you know more than you've said, but you want to keep secrets." He spun around; his scythe catching Anderson's arm slightly. It wasn't a deep enough wound to bring out any records, but a few drops of blood appeared on the fabric of his jacket and stood out like discarded rose petals.

"You always were very strong," Anderson said, "You had to be because of the fate that had been assigned to you from birth." He jumped back again. "You're right about one thing. I do know more that I've said, but words mean so little in times like this."

"No," countered William, steadying himself, "Words mean everything when it's the truth."

Anderson's face paled slightly and his eyes twitched as if he was about the cry. "You do deserve he truth," he said. Dropping his own scythe, he walked solidly and steadily towards William, who had yet to drop his scythe.

"This was all prophesied from the moment you were born," Anderson said, "You always had to be the one to take this evil inside you because you're the only one who was strong enough to defeat it."

"But I'm not strong enough," William insisted, "I...I killed Ronald, and I attacked Harris."

"You've struggled," Anderson agreed, as he took the final steps, "but you're still the one in control."

"I can't," said William, "The collar cracked."

"This band," began Anderson, as he tapped the collar, "isn't what will give you the strength." With a patient smile, he took William's hand and lifted it until the wedding ring was right before William's eyes. "This band is."

William was crying now. "What should I do?" he asked.

"Go back to Grell," Anderson answered, "You are her strength and she is yours. The worst times are still ahead, but I know you will make it through."

"But what if I hurt Grell?"

"You won't," Anderson said, "You'll only hurt her if you leave. Remember William, you are still the one in control of all this."

William nodded as Anderson turned towards Perkins, who had been watching the entire scene unfold before him. "You should go," Anderson said, "We will need you later though, so stay close by."

"Okay," Person said as he turned to leave, although he looked back several times as he walked away. Undoubtedly he had no idea what he had just witnessed, but perhaps he could sense it was something rather important. Once he was gone, Anderson returned his attention to William.

"And you need to return to Grell," he said.

He didn't have the strength to argue, so he only nodded once more. "Thank you," he whispered.

"Don't thank me," Anderson said, sadly, "I only wish I could help you more. It's not your fault you're in the position." He looked upwards for a few minutes. "I have to go," he said, "but I'll be back soon. Just remember what I said." Before William could say anything, Anderson leaped into the sky to jump unto a nearby rooftop. Soon, he was out of sight.

Gathering his strength, William started the long walk towards the cottage. He felt emotionally drained, but he was pleased that the demon had seemingly fallen silent. Although he was still scared that he was going to lose control one day, he knew that he had to do his best for Grell's sake. If he failed, she would be an outcast. At best, she would be forced to live on the run. At worst, she would be put to death. He shuddered at the thought as he returned home.

He opened the door only to see a warm and inviting scene. Grell was working at the stove as Beau lay on the floor nearby, but both turned to look at him when he stepped inside. Grell smiled her beautiful brilliant smile that practically radiated with love, as Beau's tail thumped the wooden floor. "You're home early," she said, "Did Harris finally have a heart and decide not to work you to the bone?"

William swallowed hard as he closed the door behind him. "I don't think I'll be working for Harris anymore," he admitted.

Grell's smile only grew. "I don't know how you put up with him for that long," she said, "Dinner's just about ready."

He wanted to say more about what had happened. Grell deserved to know the full truth just as he had demanded it early, but feelings of guilt cemented his tongue. He only stepped inside and stood by the table.

Wiping the flour from her hands, Grell swept across the room and wrapped her arms around him. "I've missed you, darling," she said, and she leaned up for a kiss.

He pushed her back gently. "Grell," he said, "I don't think this is a good idea."

She frowned sharply. "What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I still have a demon inside me," he said, "I love you, but I'm still afraid. It might be best for you to keep your distance. I couldn't live with myself if I ever hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," she said, moving closer, "I trust you, and I've missed you. Kiss me, darling. Show me how much you missed me."

The fear rose up in him again. "Is that all you ever think about?" he hissed, "Maybe I'm not in the mood to kiss or do anything else. Just...Just let me be." He regretted his words and the pain he saw stamped clearly in Grell's eyes, but he didn't apologize as he retreated to the bathroom. It was best to keep her at a distance, although he knew that it wouldn't be easy.

 

((x))

 

Grell had no idea what had come over William, although she suspected that something must have happened while he had been out. Still, he refused to speak about it, nor would he look at her or even touch her. It was even worse then it had been before they had confessed their feelings for one another. Even now, lying side by side on the bed, he was far beyond her reach. She began to wonder if she would ever be able to touch him again as she stared at the ceiling. Beau snored quietly by the door, but the only other sound she could hear was the ticking of the clock on the mantle.

"Grell?" William suddenly asked. His back was turned to her as he faced the opposite wall. "Are you asleep?"

"No, my love," she answered.

He rolled over and propped himself up on his elbow. "I can't sleep either," he said, "I'm sorry we argued."

"Me too."

"It was my fault," he said, "I just want to protect you, but I want more than that." Touching her face gently. "I want to give you what you always wanted."

"You have," she replied.

"I want to give you more." He smiled lazily as he toyed with a strand of her hair. "If I could give you what you always wanted," he said, "would you promise yourself to me? Would you promise you heart, body, and soul?"

"I already have," she said, "but I gladly promise again. I would give you everything."

"Kiss me, Grell."

She happily obliged, and she kissed him deeply. At first, he moved back slightly as if surprised by the sudden passion, but then he looked deeply into her eyes. "Grell," he said before he brought his lips back to her own.

The kiss went from chaste to needy rather quickly as he slipped his tongue inside to explore her mouth. Her own tongue happily caressed his as she pulled him closer; needy whines slipping between their lips. She realized just how much she wanted and need William, but this time she had planned to take charge.

Pushing him on to his back, she climbed over so that she had a knee planted on each side of his hips. With his eyes fully on her, she removed her gown so that the moonlight could highlight and caress her nude form. He smiled as he looked up at her, and reached up to touch, but she took hold of his hands. "Not yet," she whispered. Still holding his hands against her chest, she leaned down and began to kiss and suck his neck the way he often did for her. She could feel him wanting to move and take hold of her, but he didn't try to struggle from her gasp as she moved his hands to the bed.

She moved her mouth to briefly lick each nipple before kissing down his muscular abdomen as she moved down to her target. He was mostly erect, so she licked gently until he was fully so. Blushing slightly, she licked the slit before taking him in her mouth. Beneath her, William moaned wantonly as she sucked and licked. He tangled his hands in her hair as she bobbed her head and gently massaged the sac.

He moaned again. "Stop," he said, "I want...I want to be with you."

She released him. "Then, prepare me," she said hoarsely; aching with need, "I need to feel you inside me."

Sitting up, he grabbed the lube they kept by the bed, as she positioned herself. He was gentle, but she could feel his fingers were trembling as he pushed inside to stretch her. "Darling, hurry," she said, "I can barely wait." As she spoke, she reached down and began to stroke herself.

"Good things comes to those who wait," he replied, although she could see his eyes shining with raw want and desire as he watched her touch herself. A second and then a third finger joined the first, and she almost screamed when they stroked her prostrate. "I'm ready," she gasped.

She sat up in front of him, and carefully moved herself down on his erection. This was the first time she had tried this position, but it felt so natural and right to be be in William's arms. "Oh...you always feel...so wonderful," she said, as she slowly began to move up and down. She hadn't realized how much she truly needed him before now as her body took over and sought to reach that high once again.

"So do you," he said, as he pushed inside her. He reached between them to stroke her as their mouths met once more. Moans filled each others mouths as she slid up and down; sweat glistening on their skin. Words were lost as they simply moved in search of that nirvana.

Grell could feel her abdomen tightening and could tell by Will's uneven pace he was close as well. She started to say so when the orgasm crashed over, and she threw her head back helplessly as her back arched. William came at the same moment, and she could feel his seed filling her.

"I love you so much," she whispered, as she slowly came down from her high. She moved from his lap, as she looked into his eyes.

"And I love you," he replied, before reaching for one of the towels the kept nearby. Cleaning up, they curled up in each others arms as they fell into a peaceful and dreamless sleep.


	23. Chapter 23

William awoke early, but there was no need to rush out of the door on this morning. He took a minute to relax quietly; smiling at the sun, the sound of birds chirping happily, and the comfortable weight of Grell on his chest. He glanced down at her calm, sleeping face, and he pushed aside a few scarlet strands of her wild hair to truly appreciate her features. She was beautiful. She had always been beautiful, and he had been a fool to try and ignore her for so long. Even with the chaos that seemed to rampage just outside their door, William knew that Anderson was right. He belonged here with Grell just as she belonged with him. There was peace in this cottage because they were finally together, and together they were stronger than they could ever be apart. "I love you," he whispered, as he stroked her hair, but she only mumbled something softly in her sleep before curling up even tighter. She had never been a morning person, but now he found the trait endearing and even adorable.

He could have laid there much longer, but Beau seemed to have different ideas as he was already whining and clawing at the door. Laughing softly, William carefully slid out of the bed; doing his best not wake his wife. Grell mumbled something in her sleep, but she only curled up deeper in the covers as he slipped on his pajama bottoms. He opened the door for Beau and stepped outside to greet the morning. Although the air was cool, he could already tell it was shaping up to be a beautiful day. The morning fog hung like silver over the sparkling, dew covered grass, as the sky was steadily lightening into a soft azure hue. He took in a deep breath as he realized that he should have a cup of coffee and Grell to fully enjoy this morning.

Grell's voice drifted outside the cottage; interrupting his thoughts. "Will," she called, "Will come here."

There was an odd edge to his voice that concerned him, but he tried to push the thoughts aside as he walked back inside. The bed was empty, but he could see the door to the bathroom was open. "What is it?" he asked as he walked.

She was standing in front of the mirror staring at her chest when he approached. Normally, the sight of her standing there fully nude would have been enticing, but he could see the worry on her features before she even turned to face him.

Before he saw the horrible red mark burned on her chest.

Feeling as if he was stepping into a nightmare in the morning light, he moved closer to touch the mark, but he already knew precisely what he saw. "A demon's mark," he whispered.

Grell gasped. "I thought that's what it looked like," she said, "But how is that possible? Could it be that demon that found me when I was sick?"

"No," he replied, "This is definitely a contract seal. You had to have make a contract with a demon."

"But I haven't done any such thing!" she cried, "Why would I? I have all I ever wanted - just like I told you last night."

He led her back to the bed to sit down, but he frowned at her words. "Like you told me last night?" he asked, "We barely spoke last night. I was trying to keep you away."

"I meant after we went to bed," she explained, "I was just lying there staring at the ceiling when you asked if I was awake." Smiling she touched him gently. "Then we made love, and it was so perfect."

The weight of what she was saying almost brought him to his knees, but he knew he had to learn the truth. "Tell me exactly what happened," he said, "Did I say or do anything else before we kissed? I know how weird that sounds, but I need to know."

She turned her head sideways and looked at him curiously. "Well," she said, "you asked if I was asleep, and then you apologized. After that you said you wanted to give me what I wanted, and you asked me to kiss you." She laughed. "You were quite the romantic really.

"What was it that you wanted?" he asked, "and how did I say I was going to give it to you."

"You're certainly full of questions," she replied, "Maybe you shouldn't make promises in your sleep."

"Just tell me!" he cried.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what it was you thought I wanted," she said, "I told you I had everything I wanted, but you kept pushing it. You even asked if I would promise my heart, body, and soul if you could give me what I wanted."

His world grew dark and cold as the realization of what had happened became undeniably clear. "This is all my fault," he mumbled, as he turned away, "I shouldn't have come back. I shouldn't have."

"Darling, what's wrong?" Grell asked; jumping to her feet and taking hold of his arm.. "I'm not holding you to any of those promises or anything."

"No, you don't understand," he said, "I...I wasn't the one talking to you last night. You didn't promise me anything." He turned around and placed his palm against the demonic seal. "You were making a contract with a demon," he said, "The demon that's inside me."

She could only stare at him for a moment. "But how?" she finally managed.

He took her hands in his own. "When I entered your records to save you," he said, "it left me weaker somehow, and the demon managed to come back out. It even managed to crack the collar." He pointed to the offending crack before finishing. "The reason I'm not going to work for Harris today," he confessed, "Is because I allowed the demon to use me, and I broke his wrist. I'm not even sure if we can stay here even if I do find a way to pay the rent."

Removing her hand from his, she cupped his face. "That's okay," she said, "We'll be okay. Even if we have to go somewhere else, it will be okay."

"You don't understand!" he said, "I ran away because I didn't want to hurt you, but Anderson convinced me to return. He said that I was in control, and I wouldn't hurt you, but he was wrong." His voice was shaking as the first tear slipped free. "The demon made a contract with you, and we don't even know what for. If it's able to fulfill that contract, it will take your soul. You'll be lost to me forever."

She smiled. "Then we'll just have to stop it," she said confidently, "Now, how about some breakfast."

As if nothing was amiss, she started rummaging in the pantry, but his heart was breaking with each second. He had killed Ronald, and now he might do the same to Grell. As Beau came back inside through the door that had been left open, and he nudged William's hand with a soft whine. Apparently, even he could sense something was wrong.

"It will be okay, boy," William said as he petted the dog's large head, but he knew that they were in real danger. The only way to end a demon's contract was to kill the demon before it could fulfill its end of the bargain, and he had no idea how to even go about that. "It'll be okay," he repeated, but this time the reassurance was more for himself than for Beau.

 

((x))

 

Collins walked calmly to his own flat; whistling softly as he smiled. Everything had fallen into place, with the exception of a few minor details. Spears and Sutcliff were still missing, but he didn't think they were any real threat. They were trapped in the living world and couldn't travel here if they wanted. Most everyone in this realm had been chipped or were under control. They were a few that had gone into hiding, but he was confident they could be found. He had done it. He was king. With a confident smile, he opened his door and stepped inside.

"Hello, Collins," Anderson said from Collin's favorite plush chair, "Welcome home."

Collins's smile immediately melted, but he did his best to hide his rage as he shut the door. "I'm surprised to see you 'Pops,'" he said, "Are you ready to admit your defeat? I've already succeeded, as you may know."

Instead of immediately answering, Anderson lifted up a glass of what Collins saw was his best bourbon and took a generous drink. "You are as delusional as ever," Anderson replied, "You managed to gain temporary control. I'll grant you that, but you have not succeeded nor will you. We both know that." He smiled as he took another drink. "I see the fear in your eyes," he added.

"I am not afraid!" Collins yelled as he ran across the room to charge Anderson, but he only found a classic scythe stuck in his face.

"You are afraid," Anderson said, "but I'm not." He stood and moved towards the balcony. "We both know you are scared because you are a phony. You are not New Death." With those words, he stepped outside and out of sight.

"I am New Death!" Collins cried, and he followed Anderson only to find his balcony was empty and there was no sight of the older reaper. Frustrated, Collins slammed his fists on the railing as he stared into the night. "How are you still creating portals?" he asked the night, but there was no answer.

With his anger rising, Collins ran out of his flat and hurried back to the office. Without pausing, he ran straight to forensics. He needed to create a new army of his advanced Bizarre Dolls. Undoubtedly, Anderson was staying Spears - so he could kill two birds with one stone. He would take care of all the loose ends at once. "Othello," he said, as he burst through the doors, "I have an important job for you."

A young scientist with short strawberry blonde hair turned to look at him. "Othello isn't here, Mr. Collins," he said, "Can I help you?"

Collins shook his head. "I think Othello is better suited," he said, "Did he go home? What time should he be here?"

There was a pregnant pause. "I haven't seen Othello for a few days," the scientist finally admitted, "No one knows where he is."

Things were starting to crumble again, and Collins swayed under the weight of his rage. "I will find him," he said, "I will find him and...." His voice trailed off as he looked again at the scientist. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Jonathan Tiller."

"Well, Tiller," Collins said, "You are my new head scientist. We have some work to do." He took several deep breaths as he realized his mistake. He had known that Othello had cared for Grell, but he had foolishly thought he could use that to his advantage. With Othello's sudden disappearance, however, he could only assume that the Othello was now a traitor.

And there could only be on fate for traitors.

 

((x))

 

The smell of the burning bread filled the small cottage before Grell had even noticed, and she raced to the stove. Grabbing a nearby cloth, she went to remove the already burnt bread, but soon learned that the cloth had a hole in it as a finger made direct contact with the rack. "Dammit!" she screamed before dropping the bed, which fell to the floor. Beau looked from her to the fallen bread and then back to her face before whining.

"That wasn't very ladylike," she said to the dog, "but it really hurt."

Beau whined again and walked forward to lick her injured hand; ignoring the bread. Grell managed a smile before pushing him away to rinse her injured finger in cold water. Once it wasn't hurting so badly, she quickly cleaned up the mess she had made, and gave a generous piece of bread to Beau for his patience. "I'm not usually so clumsy," she said aloud, "Where is my mind today?" Despite her words, she knew the real root of her problem.

She was scared.

She had put on a brave face for William, and she knew he would do his best to save her. She trusted William explicitly, but she still couldn't deny the fear that nibbled in the back of her mind and kept her distracted. Standing up, she walked to the bathroom where she undid the first few buttons on her shirt to stare once again at the contract seal that seemed to practically glow against her pale skin. There was no way for her to deny she had made a contract, but she couldn't figure out for what. She had all she had ever wanted the moment that William had taken her hand in marriage.

After wasting a few more minutes in front of the mirror, she turned away without bothering to button her shirt to return to cooking. What she really wanted was to be out and working out her frustrations on a few demons, but she knew that would only worry William more if she was gone when he returned. He had said he was going out to look for a new job, but Grell knew he needed some time to sort things out in his own head. She would give him that time and space. Wordlessly, she set about finishing dinner.

The rest of the day slipped by slowly, and Grell continued to talk to Beau to ease her own loneliness and frustration. The food was finished and had grown cold despite setting on the on oven by the time she heard the door open and William stepped inside.

"Darling!" she cried, as she rushed over to him and fell into his arms.

He gave her a tired smile and brief kiss before moving out of her embrace. "I couldn't find a job," he admitted, "No one seemed to be willing to hire me. I would go back to Harris and beg for my job back, but that's probably a lost cause." He ran his hand through his hair, and she saw that it had gotten mussed while he was out. "I'm sorry, Grell."

"Don't worry about it," she said reassuringly, "Let me get you some dinner. Do you want me to heat it up? I confess, darling, that I went ahead and ate while waiting for you." She knew that she was rambling a bit and tried to slow her speech. He didn't need to be able to hear her nerves in her tone.

"I don't really feel like eating," he said.

"But you need to eat."

William shook his head, but didn't say anything else. Grell started to insist he eat, but there was a sudden knock at the door. Although she was still concerned for William, Grell quickly hurried over to open the door, and smile when she saw the visitor. "Pops," she sang, "What are you doing here?"

Before Anderson could answer, William scythe suddenly shot past Grell's shoulder and straight for the older reaper's face. Grell let out a surprised cry as Anderson dodged just before the scythe made contact, although it did clip his ear slightly. Blood stained his graying hair as he jumped backward, and William shoved passed Grell to follow him.

"Get out of here," William growled, "or I will kill you."

"Will!" Grell screamed, "What are you doing?"

William looked back at her. "It's his fault," he said, "He told me to come back to you and that you'd be safe, and just look at what happened. You're in danger now, and it's all because of him!"

Anderson's eyes widened. "What's going on?" he asked, "Is Grell in some sort of trouble?"

Wordlessly, William reached over and jerked at Grell's shirt. A few buttons went flying through the air, and Grell watched as they fell into the grass and disappeared. Her upper chest exposed, William pointed to the seal on her chest. "The demon made a contract with Grell," he said, "For what, we don't know, but she's entered into some sort of contract. And this is all your fault! " As he spoke, Grell self consciously wrapped her torn shirt around her to cover herself. She was embarrassed of the demon's mark.

The look on Anderson's face was peculiar. Briefly his mouth dropped open as apparent shock rippled through his features, but then a strange light glistened in his green and gold eyes. To Grell it almost looked as if if Anderson wasn't all that surprised, but that made no sense to her at all.

"I never would want Grell in danger," Anderson said, "If you think that, you are mistaken."

"It doesn't matter what you wanted," William replied, "Grell's life might be at stake, and that is what I care about." He lunged at Anderson again, who brought out his own scythe. In total shock, Grell watched as the two began to fight. Anderson could move faster than she had expected, and he managed to cut William's arm slightly. William winced, but he was quick to respond. Despite having outscored him in the academy, Grell knew that no one could handle a scythe the way that William could. As she watched, William fall back as he extended his scythe and brought it around in a wide arc. Anderson had no time to dodge, and the weapon caught him firmly in the side. Blood squirted from the wound, and his records started to spill forth forth. Before anyone could see the records, however, Anderson did something peculiar. He grabbed his own records and shoved him back into his body. Apparently he didn't want anyone to see the memories.

"Will...you have to stop," Anderson coughed, "You're the one in immediate danger."

"You're the only danger I see here," William said, as he pointed his scythe straight at Anderson's face, "I could kill you know, and I doubt anyone would care."

Grell had been too in shock to interfere before, but now the stench of demons filled the air and stung her nose. She summoned her own scythe as she scanned the darkness for the source. "Will, darling," she said, "We're not alone here." As she spoke, Beau came running from the house; his lips curled in a snarl as his fur raised.

William looked around slightly. "I smell them too," he said, and Grell watched as an odd blue light, seemingly starting from his wedding ring, began to envelop his body. The air around him crackled as if charged with electricity, but she had no idea what she was witnessing. She wondered if this was the demon's power, but somehow she doubted it.

"Did you lead those demons here?" William demanded.

"No," Anderson said; shaking his head wildly, "but that's why I was coming here. I saw they were gathering, and I came to warn you. I know a safe place for you and Grell where they can't touch you."

"Why should I trust you?" William asked.

Grell looked around as she sensed more and more demons approaching. "I'm not sure we have a choice," she said, "I don't care to tackle a few demons, but I think this is more than a few." She took a deep breath. "We need to get out of here."

"I can help," Anderson said, "I know where we can go, and I'll get you there safely."

The blue light slowly began to fade as William lowered his scythe. "We will trust you, for now," he said, "because it seems we have to."

Anderson nodded as he slowly crawled to his feet. Quickly, he created a portal for them to pass, but William only stood there until Grell took his arm. "We have to trust him," she whispered.

Finally William let out a long sigh. "Honestly," he muttered, as he reached back to take Grell's hand and motion for Beau. The dog whined loudly, and stepped back from the portal as if suddenly afraid.

"Dogs can't pass through portals," Anderson said, "They were only meant for reapers. Dogs simply aren't able to do so, and he knows that." He pointed to Beau. "He'll have to stay."

"I'm not leaving him behind," William stated, and he stepped back to grab hold of Beau's collar. He whined slightly, but he didn't fight as William led him and Grell through the portal. Anderson followed, and closed the portal behind them as Grell looked about and tried to regain her bearings. It was hard to see much of this place in the dark, but at least there were no demons nearby.

"Where are we?" she asked.

"It's an old church," Anderson said, "Not in great shape, but I've made sure it's well stocked. You can live here for months without having to leave these grounds, and you far enough from houses that no one should see you. Plus, this ground is sacred here, so no demon will be able to enter. This should work." He smiled uneasily. "What do you think?"

William answered by slamming his feet directly into Anderson's face; breaking his nose. "Leave," he said, "I hope this place is as safe as you say, but I never want to see your face again. Do you understand?"

"I understand," Anderson said quietly, as he looked at the ground. "I will search for a way to break the demon's contract. Even if you don't want me to, I want to help." Without another word, he created a portal and disappeared.

"Should you have done that?" Grell asked, "He was helping us."

"I've had enough of his help," William replied, but she could hear his voice softening a little, "We should go on and try and get some rest. We don't know if we're really safe here or not, so we might have to run without much warning."

"Wherever you go, I'll go," Grell replied with all the cheerfulness she could muster. She felt William could use a smile after all that had been happening. Together, they walked into the remains of the old church. It was quite dark inside, but they saw a small mat had been arranged on the floor. Sitting down, they cuddled closely, but it wasn't about the physical needs tonight. Tonight, they simply needed each other, and the reassurance that they would be their for one another no matter what.

Beau whined loudly, and Grell held out her arm to invite him to join them. He didn't pause as he curled up with her and William and stared up at them with his dark, brown eyes. With another soft whine, he leaned his head against them as they held on to one another.

 

((x))

 

Collins stood on a rooftop overlooking London, but the streets seemed quiet tonight. People were staying indoors since the last attacks, although he knew that it wouldn't last. "I know you're here," he finally said, "I can smell you."

The same demon as before stepped out of the shadows. "You're not very nice," he said, but he laughed all the same, "Why do I get the feeling that you were looking for me?"

"I was," Collins admitted, "I know precisely what sort of beast you are, but I thought perhaps you could be of some help."

"Why should I help when you insult me?" asked the demon, "Besides, I thought you didn't like demons."

"I don't," Collins said, "but I think we both want the same thing." He turned around quickly. "I want the head of the reaper known as William T. Spears on a platter!"

The demon smiled. "And what will you give me if I deliver you his head?" he asked, "What's in this for me? Your pitiful soul?"

Collins shuddered slightly. "No," he said, "I won't give you my soul, but perhaps there is something we can agree on."

The demon nodded and walked over so that he was also looking over the city. "I like what you have done," he said, "So many souls left unguarded and uncollected. I have feasted well, but it would be good if our little buffet here was never closed. Do you understand?"

"You want me to never collect the souls from London again?" Collins asked.

"Precisely," answered the demon, "It is a small price to pay. I deliver you this reaper, and you make sure I always have a few souls upon which to feed. Does that not sound fair?"

It didn't sound precisely fair or proper to Collins, but it was the means to an end. "Okay," he said, "You bring me Spears, and I will give you the souls."

There was another dark laugh. "You know you would have made a decent demon," he said, "if you had had the choice." Still laughing he disappeared and slowly the smell began to fade.

Collins opened his tightly clenched hands only to find he had cut his palms with his nails. "I am no demon," he said, "I am Death."

 


	24. Chapter 24

The May sun filtered through the trees as a gentle breeze caused the wildflowers to dance as if in celebration. Grell hummed happily as she planted some cabbage in her small garden; pausing only briefly to push a strand of hair from her face as she looked up at William. He was hard at work on the small building they had decided to turn into a root cellar. Although he wasn't looking her direction, she still smiled before she allowed her green and gold eyes to drift over their present home.

When Anderson had first brought them here that night, Grell hadn't been able to see much of their location. In the darkness, which had only been partially offset by the moon, she had only been able to make out a crumbling, stone structure. Huddling on their mat that night, she had wondered if this place was more of a forgotten prison than a former church, but everything had looked so much different the next morning. It was quaint with an old-fashioned, humble appeal. Wild roses grew up proudly along one side; perfuming the area with their delicious scent, and the grounds were lush and green. It looked almost like a tranquil painting, and she had known, from that moment, they could be happy here. Since then, both her and William had put in the effort to truly make this place a home.

Knocking her gardening gloves together, she stood, and immediately winced from a slight pain in her chest that was seemingly centered around the mark. She glanced up, but William was still not looking her way. That was a relief, because she knew that he worried far too much. Forcing a smile back on her face, she stepped into their house them both a glass of lemonade.

With the exception of a few religious statues, it was difficult to tell this had ever been a church. The stone floors were swept and clean, and they had a delightful, happy kitchen set up to the side. Anderson had done an extensive job with stocking this location with everything from food, toiletries, and even clothing - although Grell found that Pops's sense of style was lacking. Thankfully she had her own sewing machine and fabrics to make alterations. In so many ways, this looked precisely like the sort of house she had dreamed about for so many years; minus a red roof.

Stepping towards the kitchen, she frowned as she looked down at the one bit of clutter in this house. Pops must have raided the library for every book on demons and brought the volumes here. At night, William would pour over each page, and she hated to see him so obsessed. She was also worried, especially since the pain and sensitivity in her chest seemed to be moving into her lower back, but she had no desire for her love, her husband, to feel any guilt.

"Grell," William said from behind her.

She jumped slightly before turning to face him. "Oh, darling," she said, "I didn't hear you." Quickly she stepped on into the kitchen to pick up the pitcher. "I was just going to get us a glass of lemonade."

"Sounds good," he said, but she could hear the strain on his voice, "Is everything okay? You seem....distracted."

She laughed lightly. "I'm always distracted," she said, "especially when you're so close." She poured him a glass and handed it to him. "How's the root cellar coming?"

"I should be done by tomorrow," he said, "It will be a good place to store food later. What are you planting?"

"Just some cabbage," she answered, "but I have a lot more seeds. I'm going to plant some carrots and radishes later. It will be lovely to have all these fresh vegetables, don't you think?"

He winced slightly. "If you say so," he said.

Playfully, she swatted him. "I swear, William T. Spears, you'd live on nothing but greasy foods if it were up to you!" she said.

"Well, that is what tastes best," he said, "but I also like the occasional sweet." As he spoke, Beau whined loudly and walked over to them to nuzzle their hands. "See," William said, "Even Beau agrees."

She slapped him again without any malice. "All I can say is that one of boys is going to learn to love vegetables," she said, but she couldn't hide her broad smile.

William shrugged as he looked down at Beau. "I'm afraid you're going to have to take one for the team," he said with a rare display of humor.

She laughed loudly, and hugged her husband. "Let me wash up," she said, "and I'll put on lunch - complete with vegetables. And I want you eat every bite."

He hugged her again before she pulled away so she could get ready to cook. As she walked away, however, she paused to look back. William was sitting at the table; still smiling as he petted Beau. This was precisely how she liked to see him - happy and content, and she was determined to do her best to make him happy for the rest of his days.

Or at least the rest of hers.

 

((x))

 

This still didn't feel like home. Even with all the lights turned on and some personal belongings, these rooms still looked clinical and cold. It was a functional hideout, and Ms. Fletcher felt safer behind these plain, gray walls, but she still longed for her own house and her own bed. She didn't openly complain, however, since Othello was the only one who around to listen, and he was in the same situation. Standing up from the cot where she had been sitting, she gently padded Rosalind on the head and gave her some food before walking off to find Othello.

She knew exactly where he would be; a tiny alcove towards the back sitting before a series of screens and buttons. After they had set up the makeshift clinic, they had discovered the machines, and he had soon figured out it was some sort of surveillance equipment. He had spent countless hours repairing the device, and she had recognized it was as much as a way to spend the time as it was a way to find out what was happening in the world.

His back was to her and he had large headphones over his ears when she approached, so she tapped his shoulder gently. Blinking, he turned and smiled in a distracted manner before removing the headphones. "Anything happening?" she asked, as she sat down in a nearby chair.

He shook his head as he reached into his jacket to produce a box of licorice. "Nothing really," he said, "It's just the same stuff day in and day out, but nothing's really happening. It's like our world is..." His voice trailed off as he took a bite of the licorice.

"Dead?" she asked.

"Yeah," he said, as he held out the box to her.

"No thanks," she said, before sighing loudly. "But our world is dead, isn't it? Even the few reapers you do still see?" She gestured to the screen where a handful walked by solemnly. "Even their eyes are dead. I...I hate seeing them like this."

"I know what you mean," Othello agreed, "We're just lucky that neither of us got one of those brain killing chips implanted." He chewed for a few minutes as his eyes stayed fixed on the screen. "I think Collins must have had some idea how bad those chips were," he finally said, "That's why he didn't want to do that to the scientists. He wanted our brains intact. He wanted our help."

"To do what?" she asked, "More of his experiments?"

"Yeah," he said, "and I think he has more planned." He turned away from the monitors fully. "I don't know what he has planned, but Collins is definitely very dangerous and completely unstable at this point. He has some master plan that he's working towards, but I doubt that it would make sense to anyone else. He even tried to convince me to help him; saying that he would make sure Grell was spared."

Ms. Fletcher hesitated a minute. "I think he's jealous of Mr. Spears," she finally said, "and he wants to take everything away from him, which includes Sutcliff. Since Collins probably knows about you feel about Sutcliff..." She allowed her voice to trail off when she saw Othello blush darkly.

"Grell's my friend," he quickly said, "There's nothing more between us."

"I know," she said quietly.

"And if I did have other feelings," he added, "I would want Grell to be happy and with someone she loved - and that someone is Willy." He let out a long slow breath, as he turned back towards the screen.

She looked down at her hands and attempted to smooth her wrinkled shirt. "I didn't mean to bring up anything that would upset you," she said.

"What's going on here?" Othello asked aloud, as if he hadn't heard her speak, "Something is going on in Collins's office." Quickly, he turned a few dials as he brought up the image, and unplugged the headphones so that they could both hear. At first, she wondered if he was simply changing the subject, but she soon realized that there was something very peculiar unfolding on the screen. Collins was sitting at his huge desk, and a few of his hollow-eyed cronies stood nearby, but her attention was drawn to another man who had been brought into the room. She could tell by his suit that he was from Upper Management, and she thought she had seen him before but she had no clue as to his name. Intently, she watched as the tall, blonde man was shoved into the room so that he fell against the front of Collins's desk.

"Ah, Lowood," Collins said; his voice crackling slightly through the speaker, "It's so nice of you to join us here."

Lowood stood and straightened his jacket as he looked about the room. "It would appear I didn't have a choice," he said. He ran a freckled hand through his hair. "What is the meaning of all this?"

Collins smiled as stood up and walked around the desk. "The future, Lowood," he said, "This is all about the future - my future." He waved his arms about the room. "Look at the peace and order we have here now, and soon we can spread that peace."

"What are you talking about?" Lowood demanded, "Have you gone mad?"

"Quite the contrary," Collins said, "I can see the future clearly, and I can allow you to see it as well. Of course, it's all voluntary, but it will be necessary to be a part of this future I am shaping."

"You're talking about those bloody chips, aren't you?" Lowood asked, "I told you before that the answer is no. I will not become one of your little puppets."

"This will be the last time I offer," Collins said, "Don't you want to be a part of the future."

"To hell with you future," Lowood growled.

"Very well," Collins said, "I gave you the choice." He took a step back and snapped his fingers. As soon as he did so, one of the reapers standing behind Lowood stepped forward. With no emotion in his blank, cold eyes, he raised his scythe to the Lowood's throat and sliced it cleanly.

Ms. Fletcher gasped loudly; clasping her hands over her mouth at the scene. Even though she had seen many deaths, she had never seen anything as cruel and heartless as this. Lowood collapsed to the floor in a bloody heap; his records flying up into the air, as Collins walked back behind his desk.

He produced a handkerchief and wiped his hands. "Destroy those records," he said calmly, "No one even needs to remember such a fool as that."

"Yes, Mr. Collins," the other reapers in the room echoed as if they shared the same mind and the same voice.

Perhaps they did.

Ms. Fletcher began to cry for Lowood, and Othello turned off the sound before switching monitors. "What sort of man does things like that?" she asked.

"Evil," Othello answered, "Perhaps the most evil this world has ever seen."

She took in a deep breath. "And what can we do?" she questioned.

Othello could only shake his head. "For now," he said, "I think all we can do is to survive and wait."

Ms. Fletcher nodded slowly before wiping away her tears and wrapping her arms around her body. Othello was right. All they could do was wait.

 

((x))

 

"Will," Grell gasped, as her fingers dug into the sheets, "Darling." Her breathing sped up as the sweat glistened off her flushed skin. Small moans fell from her lips, as she locked her ankles tighter around William's back.

His pace was still steady, but the sight of her heavily lidded eyes gazing up at him through the fringes of her lashes threatened his control. He had never wanted anyone the way he wanted control, nor could he have imagined simply letting the work around their new home wait while they enjoyed an interlude of intimacy in the middle of the day. Holding tightly to her hips, he moved deeply inside of her. His eyes slipped down her body, lingering on her long neck and down to her chest, but then he paused. She had a thin piece of gauze over the horrid seal marring her porcelain skin. When he had asked her about it, she had said that the mark didn't hurt, but she hated looking at it. He felt himself slowing slightly as his eyes crawled across the gauze. It was his fault. It was all his fault.

"Don't stop," she moaned, "Kiss me, darling. Please, take me to that place again; that place only you can take me."

He tore his gaze from the gauze and leaned forward to kiss her deeply. Her tongue invaded his mouth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders. Feeling the scraping of her nails as their tongues danced pushed aside the guilt, and soon his speed increased. She moaned inside his mouth as she pushed her hips closer; and he could feel her desperately seeking release. Her erection was trapped between their bodies, and he could feel it twitching.

His own movements became erratic; and the bed beneath them creaked and groaned with the rhythm of their lovemaking. Her back arched, as she threw her head back and cried out with the power of her orgasm. He soon followed; releasing fully into her with a soft moan. When he was done, he pulled out and fell beside her on the bed.

"Darling," she said; her chest rising and falling quickly as she struggled to catch her breath, "You were amazing as always."

"You are the amazing one," he said, before he kissed her gently and turned to get one of the towels he had learned to leave nearby. As he took his time to clean her up properly, they were suddenly interrupted by Beau's bark. The dog had been with them long enough that William recognized the bark as being one to warn them of danger, and he feared it was demons.

"Stay here," he told Grell, as he jumped to his feet and quickly pulled on a pair of pants. Rushing outside, he immediately saw what had upset Beau as a young reaper stood on the edge of their property. William summoned his scythe as he walked forward, but the reaper only paled as he took a few steps back.

"What do you want?" William demanded.

"Uh, I only came to bring you some things," replied the reaper, as he motioned to several boxes on the ground, "Don't you recognize me, Mr. Spears?"

"Perkins!" Grell yelled, as she stepped outside, "How are you?" She walked up beside of William, and he noticed she was now wearing his shirt and a long robe. With her messy hair, it was fairly obvious what they had been doing, but he wasn't ashamed. Actually, he was quite proud to say that he had been with his wife and loving her the way he felt she deserved. As she spoke the reaper's name, however, William slowly began to remember him.

"We've met before," William said, as he lowered his scythe slightly, "in the alley, if I remember."

"Yes, sir," Perkins replied, "although it was only briefly." He pointed again to the boxes. "I brought these for you. It's some food and other supplies, but it should last for several months. Oh, and I also have a message."

"A message?" William asked as he narrowed his eyes. "From who?"

"Uh...I don't know if that's important," Perkins said. He moved from foot to foot nervously. "But I was told to tell you that everything's in place. All you have to do is to wait here for a bit, and you should be safe."

"Tell _Anderson_ that I don't need his messages or his little gifts of charity," William replied.

"Will!" Grell said, "That's no way to treat Perkins." She smiled brightly. "Why don't you come inside?" she asked.

"I can't," Perkins answered, and he scratched several minutes at a spot above his right ear. William noticed there was a small scar there, and he couldn't help but wonder if that had something to do with the odd behavior, "Maybe another time." He smiled again, but his eyes shifted about as if he couldn't look directly at them, before he turned and hurried away.

"I wonder what's wrong with him," Grell said. Walking over to a nearby box, she opened the top and begin shuffling through the contents. "Oh, there's some new fabric here," she said, "Let's get this stuff in the house."

"Are you sure it's safe," William said; still looking in the direction that Perkins had fled, "I'm not sure we can trust him."

Grell only laughed. "You're being silly," she said, as she lifted up a box, "Now give me a hand. Stop worrying so much."

Although he still didn't trust Perkins or his gifts, he managed a strained smile as he picked up the other boxes to carry everything inside. Maybe Grell was right. Maybe he worried too much.

Or maybe he didn't worry enough.

 

((x))

 

William knew the dream all too well as he started down the familiar paths, but he immediately noticed that something had changed. There were no blooming flowers or green vibrant leaves. Empty, black vines twisted and curled about as the leaves died and fell to the ground. Only few brown petals remained here and there - like nearly forgotten memories of a beauty that had long since faded. Curious about what all this meant, he followed the path until he reached the center.

Martin was sitting at the table, but he had seemingly aged 20 years since William had last seen him. His black hair had fallen out in clumps so that pieces of his scalp shown thrown, and there were deep creases about his previously young face. With blackened, aged nails, the demon in his brother's body tapped the rusted table as he watched William approach.

William managed a wry smile. "Living inside a former church doesn't appear to agree with you," he said, "Perhaps it is time for you to leave."

Martin shook his head. "It hurts you as well," he said. As he spoke, he revealed he had lost quite a few teeth, and those that remained were rotten and black.

"Not the same as it hurts you, obviously," William replied, "I would think you would be eager to move on. Surely, you can't like living like this."

"That's where you're wrong, Willy boy," Martin said, and he laughed. It sounded like leaves crackling underfoot on an autumn day. "That's where you're wrong. You see, I do like it here with you. No matter how much you try to hurt me, I can hurt you more. After all, you gave me access to Grell, and she was so eager to make a contract with me. Practically begged for it."

William leaped across the table to grab the demon posing as his brother by the collar and pull him close. The stench of the creature was nearly unbearable, but William wasn't about to move away. "Break the curse," he said, "Break it and let Grell go free. If you do...I'll leave this sacred ground if you want."

"A tempting offer," Martin replied, "but I'm afraid I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because I've already begun fulfilling my end of the deal I have with Grell," Martin replied, "and I don't want to break my promise. I'm giving her precisely what she desired deep in her heart. I'm going to make her happy, Will." He laughed again. "Until I devour her soul."

Rage building inside him, William swung with all his might and caught Martin in the jaw. The demon fell back unto the dry, dusty ground, but he only began to laugh harder.

"What's the matter, Willy?" he asked, "Don't want to hear the truth?"

"Shut up!" William growled.

"Don't be like that," Martin said, "Besides, I'm here to tell you something very important." With deliberate effort, Martin slowly got to his feet and knocked the dusty from his soiled, tattered clothes.

"What do you want to tell me?" William asked.

Martin smiled his broad, rotten smile. "Congratulations," he hissed.


	25. Chapter 25

The air around him seemed to turn dry and cold, and William could feel it sliding across his skin like dusty fingers. "What do you mean 'congratulations'?" he asked.

Martin chuckled softly. "I would have really thought you would have guessed by now," he said, "I was able to give you darling Grell the one thing she's wanted that you couldn't give her."

William narrowed his eyes. "Grell told me she already had all she wanted," he replied, "You're trying to trick me."

"Trying to trick you?" Martin laughed loudly; rotten breath escaping from his blackened gums. "The seal is no trick, and if you'd just think about it, you can figure it out. What is it that Grell has said that she's wanted but could never have before? She's talked about it quite a lot; especially when she was with that woman and carving up whores."

The realization hit William with such a force, he stumbled slightly and almost lost his footing. "That's impossible!" he said.

"Not for me," Martin said, "So, congratulations sweet William. You're wife is going to have a baby. She's....oh let me see, about 3 months long now since the contract was made back in March. The baby should be due about December."

"Why are you doing all this?" William demanded.

"For the soul of course!" Martin exclaimed, "Souls that have tasted death are the sweetest, and I suspect a reaper's soul has been marinated in it. Grell's soul will most likely be quite the treat." Walking over, he put his hand on William's shoulder with mock sympathy. "Of course, you will lose your wife, but you will at least have the baby to remember her by - the baby I was able to give to you."

William jerked away. "And what about this child?" he asked, "Is it your spawn?"

The demon only shrugged. "You'll have to wait and see, won't you?" He laughed again, his voice rising in volume, as black, dead leaves began to swirl. William wanted to reach out and rip his laughing head off his body, but he found his arms reaching into a swirling black void.

"Stop laughing!" he tried to shout, but it was as if his voice had lost all his strength. He could only whisper as he reached out trying to stop that horrible voice.

Only to find himself sitting upright in his own bed with his arms stretched out in the darkness of the old church.

Sweat trickled down his neck and bath as he desperately tried to catch his breath. The demon's words still hung on the air as he looked down at Grell. There was a gentle smile stretched across her gentle face as she slept; snoring ever so slightly in a way that William now found endearing. A part of him hated to disturb her, but he had to talk to her now. "Grell," he said, as he shook her gently, "Grell, wake up."

She mumbled something incoherent, as she pulled tighter against the covers. Normally, this would have brought a smile to his face, but tonight it only upset him more. "You have to wake up," he said loudly, as she shook her again, "We have to talk."

Slowly she opened her eyes. "Will?" she asked, "What's wrong?" Yawning loudly, she stretched as she sat up.

"You're pregnant," he blurted.

She stared at him a few minutes as she only blinked in response. "Darling, I think you're still asleep," she finally said, "You're dreaming."

"No, I'm serious," he said.

"That's impossible," she replied, "I can't be pregnant."

"But you are," he insisted, and reached up to pull open her shirt. One button went flying and he distantly heard it fall upon the floor. "That's what this seal is all about," he explained, "That was your wish, and what the demon made a contract for."

She paled as she brought her hand to touch the seal. "That's...impossible," she repeated quietly.

"No, it's not," he said. Carefully, he placed his hand on her abdomen. "That's why your back and chest have been hurting lately."

"You could tell," she said, "I thought I was hiding all that rather well. I am an actress after all."

"I could tell," he answered, and tears came to his eyes. "I'll never forgive myself for all this," he said, "I let that demon...touch you. I let it rape you!"

She gasped as she brought her hands to her face. "The demon didn't rape me," she said, "Don't you remember, dear, you woke up when I kissed you. No one raped me. We made love." Moving her hands to put them over the one on her abdomen. "This is our baby created with our love."

"But the demon," William said, "Even if the demon didn't rape you, that thing had part in this. What if it's....what if it's the father?"

"There's no chance of that," she said, as she shook her head, "Maybe the demon made it possible, only you are the father. See, Will, I didn't just want to have a baby, I wanted your baby." Leaning forward, she kissed him deeply before resting her forehead against his. "When you told me about your life," she explained, "and how your wife hadn't been able to give you an heir, I couldn't help but think how I wanted to be the one who had your son. I hid the wish because I thought it was impossible, but now it's happening. Don't you understand? This can't be some demon's child or it wouldn't fulfill this contract. This baby can only be your son."

"My son," he repeated, "But what about you, Grell? When our child is born, the demon will take your soul."

"We'll worry about that later," she said, "I trust you, Will. Together, we'll find a way to destroy the demon, and we'll be able to move on - with our son." Wrapping her arms around him, she guided him to lay down in the bed beside her. "Let's sleep now and worry about everything else later. For now, let's just lay here together. Me, you, and our baby."

"I will save you," he said, "No matter what it takes, I will save you."

Kissing her, he laid on his back and pulled her over so that she was resting against her chest. Soon, she feel asleep once again, but his mind was racing. He only had 6 months left, but he had to find someone to save his love.

And his child.

 

((x))

 

It was a truly, beautiful morning, and Grell stood in the doorway of their house just enjoying the beauty of the day. The sun had never looked brighter, nor had the sky ever been a more beautiful, crystalline blue. Even the birds must have noticed as their songs had the sweetest, clearest notes that had ever graced Grell's ears. She wanted to sing along or even dance through the green grass, but she simply stood there and smiled as she wondered if everything was truly this beautiful, or her new view of the world was just because she was pregnant.

As she thought of the child, she reached down to touch her stomach again; desperately feeling feeling for any sign of baby. So far, her body felt the same except for the pain and sensitivity in her chest and her low back, but she knew. She knew her child was there; growing inside her.

"Oliver," she said quietly to herself.

There was a soft noise as a black muzzle nuzzled her arm. Beau looked up at her with his large, brown eyes as he wagged his tail. "Do you like that name?" she asked the dog, "I don't know where it came from, but I know it's just perfect. Little Ollie will love it."

Beau whined as if approving of the name, and Grell petted his head. "It is a good name," she said. Stepping out into the yard with the dog following, she looked over at William who was hard at work once again on the root cellar. "Poor Will," she said, "He's so worried right now. He's trying to keep himself busy, but I know he's upset." Touching her stomach again, she looked back at Beau. "I'm worried too," she admitted, "and scared. I...I don't know what it's like being pregnant or anything. And then you have the whole business with the contract has he worried too, but we'll take care of that somehow." She sighed loudly. "I can't tell my darling how I feel, though. He's already got enough on his mind."

There was a sudden change in the atmosphere, and Beau growled just as the stench of a nearby demon reached Grell's nose. "Where is it, boy?" she whispered to Beau, and she looked in the direction the dog was staring. After a moment, she spotted the demon hiding behind some trees. It was a small, low level demon with a twisted body not much bigger than a child, but Grell knew the danger it presented. It could easily tell other demons where they were hiding.

Without hesitation, Grell summoned her scythe and charged forward with Beau at her heels. She smiled wickedly; the familiar weight of the scythe in her hand making her body feeling complete and whole as the wind whipped past her. This was one thing she had been missing.

The demon tried to run, but she was far faster. She saw the terror in it's yellow, pupil-less eyes, and that only caused her heart to beat faster as she swung her scythe around to make contact. It's blood was hot and red, much like that of a human's, but it had a foul stench as it stained the area and splashed on her face. "It should have known better, shouldn't it have, Beau?"

"Grell!" William screamed, "What are you doing?"

She looked up only to see William running towards them; his face flushed as he hurried. "Oh, just taking care of a demon peeping tom," she said playfully, "It was eyeballing us from the trees, but it's gone now." She swung her chainsaw back and forth calmly.

Terror flood his face as he ran up to her and grabbed her shoulders. "No," he said, "I mean what do you think you are doing?"

"Killing a demon, like I said," she answered in a confused tone.

"But you're pregnant," he insisted, "And you left the safety of the church grounds to run off to challenge a demon? You have to be more careful. Let's get back, and I'll take care of the demons from now on." Taking hold of her hand, he gave her a nervous smile and turned to talk back to their house.

Grell pulled back. "I know you're worried," she said, "but it was just a small demon. It wasn't a big deal."

"It is a big deal," he said, "You could've gotten hurt. You need to stay where's safe. You have to stay home."

She frowned. "I don't have to do anything of the sort!" she yelled, as she jerked her hand away. "I know you love me and only want what's best for me," she said, "but don't ever try to tell me what to do. I am your wife, William, not your daughter or even your subordinate." Angrily, she stomped home ahead of him and marched into the kitchen. She loved staying her playing the part of the happy little wife, but no one had the right to tell her what she could or couldn't do.

 

((x))

 

Night had fallen with the same quiet ease as always, but Anderson almost felt guilt enjoying the general peace the night. He took a long drag off of his pipe; allowing the smoke to drift upwards to the stars as he looked out across the landscape. His sensitive ears had detected the approaching footsteps, but he had chosen to simply sat there staring in the opposite direction as he smoked as he waited. He heard the steps pause, and he sighed softly. "There's no reason to just stand there," he said, "If you need to talk, Grell, you might as well come on out here."

Grell stepped from the nighttime shadows. "Your ears are good," she said.

"Your senses are good," he said, "William wasn't able to tell I was there watching this afternoon when the demon attacked, but you were."

"I think his are being dulled a bit," she admitted, "Probably because of the demon." She walked over to sit beside Anderson on the grass; trying to ignore it had grown wet with dew. "I thought it was best not to say anything because of the way he feels about you."

"He blames me," Anderson said, "and I honestly don't blame him. None of this if fair for him, but it can't be stopped. Not now."

She frowned as she looked at him. "Do you know more then you're telling us?" she asked.

"I know about fate and prophesy," he said, mysteriously, "but I also know about free will. Nothing is certain here. I know that, but I do think that a lot of this was fated for William."

"But why?" she cried, "Why Will? It's not fair."

"It's not fair," he agreed, "and it's not Will's fault. If there was some way that I could save him from this, I would."

She took a deep breath. "You were close when I killed the demon," she said, "Did you hear what we were arguing about?"

"No," he said, "I didn't stick around once I saw you had killed that thing."

"I'm pregnant," she said suddenly, "Is that part of this fate too?"

For the first time, Anderson smiled. "Life is always a part of fate," he said.

"You don't sound all that surprised."

"I'm not particularly," he said, "I knew you loved William, so it seems natural you would have his child."

"Even though it was impossible," she said.

He laughed. "My dear Grell," he said, "By now haven't you learned that nothing is impossible."

"The demon made it possible," she said, "It tricked me into thinking that it was William and had me promise my soul in exchange for my greatest desire. I had no idea until I saw the contract seal the next morning, and I didn't even know what the contract was for until last night." She sighed again as she looked out into the night. "Will is worried," she continued, "He blames himself, and he's terrified that the demon is going to take my soul."

Anderson considered her words for a few minutes. "And how do you feel?" he asked.

"I'm scared," she said, "but mostly about being pregnant. I've dreamed about it, and it's so overwhelming. So many things can go wrong." She picked at a few blades of grass as she smiled. "But I'm happier than I've ever been in my entire life. Don't get me wrong, Pops, I have no desire to die, and I certainly don't want to lose my soul, but I can't worry about those things right now. I'm married to the man I love, and I'm pregnant with his child. I'm too happy to worry too much."

"Maybe it's good that William is worried for you then," he said.

"But he can't try to control me!" she cried, "I know he's worried, but he doesn't have to be so overprotective." She settled down a bit. "I know it's just because he loves me, but I can't stand for anyone to tell me what to do. If only there was some way we could kill that demon so he wouldn't have to worry."

"Killing the demon will end the contract," Anderson agreed.

"But how do we do that?" Grell asked, "I saw that demon's true form. It was like a puff of smoke."

"That's not it's real form," he said, "This thing has a physical form, but he keeps that part of him safe while it inhabits different bodies. This physical form can be killed with a scythe."

"Then where is its physical form?"

"I don't know," he admitted, "I was trying to do some research on this demon, but Collins closed everything off. I'm still doing what I can." He reached out and took Grell's hand. "We will find it though," he said, "and we will kill it."

"Thank you," she said, and she stood. "I should get back to the house. William was asleep when I left, but I don't want him to wake up and worry when he finds me gone."

"Don't worry," he said, "We will stop it. I promise to do all I can."

She nodded and turned and hurried away. Anderson watched her as she disappeared into the night; determined to do his best to keep his promise.

 

((x))

 

William quietly paced through the kitchen; pausing occasionally to stare outside. It had terrified him when had woke up to find Grell's side of bed vacant and cold. His first instinct was to run after her, but he couldn't help but think of what she had said to him earlier. Grell had been right. She was strong, and she didn't need anyone telling her what she could do, but he couldn't stop the fear that was gnawing at his heart. His only real consolation was that Beau was sleeping silently. He was confident that if anything was truly wrong, the dog would be barking or howling, but he still couldn't stop from worrying.

After what seemed like an eternity he heard her open the door, and he rushed to greet her. "Grell," he said, "I was worried."

She laughed. "I'm surprised you didn't follow me," she said.

"I almost did," he admitted, "but you're right. I know you can take care of yourself, I just worry about you - and the baby."

"I know, dear," she said, "and I love you for it."

"So, where did you go?" he asked.

Her smile slipped as glanced down at the floor. "I went to see Pops," she said, as she stepped past him and towards the dresser to retrieve her sleeping attire.

"I don't trust him," William said.

"I know," she said again, "I thought about trying to hide it from you, but I don't want to lie. I love you too much for that." She undressed slowly, and he couldn't help but watch. He was sure she had no desire to look alluring to him now, but she did all the same. "I wanted to see if he learned anything about that demon."

"Did he?" William asked.

She nodded as she slipped on Will's old shirt. It hung past her hips and grace her thighs. "The demon does have a physical form, which can be killed," she said, "It just keeps it separate from that smoke like form it uses to possess people. Pops is trying to figure out where its real body is hiding so we can kill it."

William walked over and wrapped his arms about her tightly. "We will find it and kill it," he said, "Now, come on. Let's go to bed."

She laughed wickedly as she leaned up slightly and brought their noses together. "Are you tired, darling?" she asked.

He knew very well what she was asking, but he only nodded. "Yes," he said, "I'm very tired. It's been a long day for both of us."

She stuck out her bottom lip slightly to pout, but she didn't insist as they crawled into bed together. Despite Grell's invitation for 'nighttime activity' she fell asleep quickly and easily. The stress seemed to have faded away, as she smiled in her sleep.,

William watched her for a few moments before he closed his own eyes. "Martin," he whispered, "I need to talk to you." As soon as the words left his lips, he could feel himself slipping; falling that dream that he now knew was no longer a simple dream. The darkness faded and he found himself standing before the rusted table in the middle of dying rose garden. Martin's decaying form smiled up at him; a peculiar light glistening in his dead eyes.

"Willy," it exclaimed, "This is the first time you've called on me like this! Usually, I have to invite you. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I want you to break the contract with Grell," William said without any sort of preamble. "Just put an end to it and leave her out of all this."

Martin laughed. "But I told you, Willy," it said, "This is all about the soul! Besides, why should I go without a meal when Grell gets just what she wanted all this time."

"Take my soul," William said, "Leave Grell's alone, and make a contract with me instead."

For the first time, the demon masquerading as his brother seemed genuinely confused. "You want to make a contract?" it asked.

"Yes," William said, "With the same details as Grell's contract - for the child."

There was a long pause as Martin seemed to consider the matter. "I would still get a reaper's soul," it said, "and yours might be even sweeter, but I think we need to add one little stipulation to this arrangement.

"What's that?" William asked.

"If for any reason I can't take your soul, I will take Grell's," it said, "In fact, the moment that she gives birth, I will have my hands and teeth on her soul until I am able to consume yours." It held out his hand. "Do you agree to my terms? I will take your soul in place of Grell's, but I will have one of your souls the moment that child inside of Grell sees light. So, do you we have a deal."

William stared at the hand for only a second. "We have a deal," he said, and he reached out to take the beast's hand.

The pain was immediate and intense. The demon laughed gleefully smoke actually rose from their grasp. After a moment, William managed to jerk his hand away; only to find himself staring at the demon's seal burned into his palm.

"It is done," said the demon, "Nice doing business with you." It laughed again and again as William tumbled from the vision and fell into nightmare after nightmare. Even as he struggled and suffered, he just tried to remind himself one thing.

This was all for Grell.


	26. Chapter 26

Grell awoke first when the golden light streaming through the window gently caressed her face and coaxed her eyelids to open, but she didn't immediately get out of bed. William almost always awoke before her, and he was usually slipping from beneath the covers before she even opened her eyes. This was a nice change of pace as she simply lay there with her head on William's chest; listening to the muffled sound of his heart as he slept. Several minutes went by peacefully before she finally raised her head to look at his face, but then her smile slipped slightly. There was a tenseness in his features, especially about the brows and lips, and it looked as if he might scream or cry at any moment. "Sweet William," she whispered, "You worry so much for me. I wish I could help you."

Careful not to disturb him, she moved up beside him to kiss his face gently; focusing her attention on those areas that seemed the most tense. He didn't wake up, but he mumbled something unintelligible in his sleep and his face relaxed. Happy that she been able to help him relax, if only a little bit, she slipped out of bed and quietly walked to the bathroom to take a bath. The church had been renovated some time prior as it appears someone had attempted to make it a home, and William had finished the work. She couldn't help but be thankful that her man was so handy because she really did prefer indoor plumbing.

Her reflection was especially pleasing that morning as her eyes shown with a radiant light and there was a glow to her cheeks. She blew her reflection a kiss and briefly wondered if this was the supposed glow that was shared by most expectant mothers as she started to disrobe. As her shirt was removed, she looked for any changes in her body, but saw there was very little. There appeared to be a slight bulge to her lower abdomen, but that could have been her imagination. From what she could see of her chest through the bandages did look as might be starting to swell, so she removed the bandages that covered the mark to get a better look.

The demon seal had all but vanished.

She gasped as she touched the skin. It was still slightly sore and there was a faint redness that showed where the seal had been, but the mark itself was gone. In the quiet of her bathroom she began to laugh as joy rushed through her body. She knew the child was still there. Even if she could see no real changes in her body and it was too early for him to move, she knew Oliver was still growing inside, but the seal was gone. She was no longer in danger of losing her soul.

With a shout of happiness, she ran from the bathroom and jumped into bed with William. His eyes opened suddenly as he was jolted awake. "What's g-" he started to say, but Grell pushed her lips to his and muffled his words. Although he was still obviously surprised, he returned the kiss as he wrapped on arm around her shoulders.

He laughed lightly when she finally pulled away. "I could stand to be awakened like that every morning," he said, as he touched her face, "You look so beautiful."

"Oh Will!" she exclaimed, "It's gone. The demon's mark is gone!" She sat up and took hold of his right hand to place it flat against her chest. "And I know Ollie is still there. Isn't it wonderful? I don't know what Pops did, but he someone broke the contract. Isn't that wonderful?"

The change in William's demeanor was instant as he sat up. "Your contract with the demon is broken," he began, "but it has nothing to do with Anderson." He moved his hand away from her chest and raised his palm in front of her face so that she could see he was the one who now bore the seal. "I made a contract with the demon to override yours. You are safe now."

Grell gasped as she looked at his hand. "Why?" she asked, "Why would you do that?"

"I just wanted to protect you and keep you safe," he said, "I'm the one with the demon inside, so I should be the one who has to deal with it."

Tears came to her eyes. "But you can't do that!" she cried, "Ollie needs both his parents! I can't lose you!" Perhaps it was the new hormones in her body, but she couldn't seem to stop crying. "You're important," she continued, "Why would you sacrifice yourself for me?"

He took her into his arms and she continued to cry on his shoulder. "Because I love you," he said, "and our baby. Besides, no one is going to be sacrificed. We'll find a way to kill the demon before the contract if fulfilled."

She sniffed loudly. "Do you promise?" she asked.

"I promise," he replied, "So, you've decided to name our baby Ollie."

Nodding, she pulled away and touched her abdomen. "Oliver actually," she said, "It just came to me, and I know it's the perfect name. Do you like it?"

After a brief pause, William nodded. "It's a good name," he said, "Oliver Spears."

"And we'll all be a happy family together," she said, as she wiped away the few remaining tears, "Since we're both awake, why don't I put on some breakfast."

Jumping to her feet, she hurried to the kitchen area, but she couldn't easily dispel the uneasiness that surrounded her heart. A part of her wasn't surprised that William had made the contract. She knew that he truly loved her and wanted to save her, but she still hated that he was in danger. Giving up her life was one thing, but she couldn't bear to lose William. Somehow, they had to find a way to kill the demon. It was the only way for them to get their happily ever after.

 

((x))

 

The garden was dead; crumbling to dust around him and his own form in this dream world was following suit, but Martin wasn't upset. He had possessed many people and consumed many souls, but William was so far beyond anyone he had encountered. Despite the pain that it caused him, William remained in the rebuilt church while trapping Martin deep within his memories where he thought he could be safely contained. Yet, William had given him so much more than anyone else could have. He did have this world, and William had given  him a name, but it was more than that. There was the child.

Martin smiled even though he could feel his rotten teeth breaking off within his gums as he closed his eyes to concentrate. In the physical world, William was taking a nap, so Martin knew he could assert a bit more of his power. He couldn't control William's body easily, but he could still send out a signal to the others. They would be eager to hear his news. While demons rarely worked together, this would be something that would affect all of them, and there would be excitement. The others would no doubt be jealous, and this thought only pushed Martin on to send out the call farther among his demonic brethren. Being envied was desirable after all.

The atmosphere changed and he felt the air grew thick and stagnant. He opened his eyes and looked around. No demons could enter this realm, but he could sense them all around the borders. They were watching and waiting.

"Well?" a voice asked in a crackling tone, "Why did you call us all here?"

"Do you need help?" asked another mockingly, "I see you are wasting away. Are we supposed to pity you?" The line of questioning was followed by an acidic laugh.

"No," Martin replied, "I called you hear to give you news. I have done what none of you have been able to do."

"And just what is that?" asked the mocking voice.

"I have helped Death to create life," Martin said.

Indistinct voices began to mumble and whisper all around him. "How have you done that?" a new voice asked.

"I have made contracts with reapers," replied Martin, "One wished to carry the other's child, and I made that possible."

Another rippling of voices and whispers. "And this reaper is carrying the child now?" questioned yet another.

"Yes," Martin replied, "They are hiding here on hallowed ground. You can not enter just yet, but there will come a time. I have possessed one of the two, so you only have to find your way to me so that you may surround them."

"And we can claim this child for ours!" hissed a voice as others cheered and yelled. The sounds of their celebration grew and rose like tumultuous waves, until Martin slowly released his breath. The other demons were no longer standing just outside the borders of this dream world. Instead, they were on their way.

Even though demons didn't typically need to sleep, Martin closed his eyes again and leaned back in his chair. Soon, his time would come. He would be able to dine on the soul of a reaper and the child of death  would be in the hands of Hell.

 

((x))

 

There was panic in the air. Collins could feel it like a tangible web, quietly crossing over his face as he walked, and he wondered at its source. There were currently none of his advanced Dolls in the area nor had heard of any recent demon attacks. While it was true that no one had been collecting souls as of late, there's no way these mortal fools had any way of knowing that. He suspected that they were in a panic simply because that was their natural state these days, and he couldn't help but grimace slightly. There had been a point where he had been one of these lowly creatures, and the thought sickened him. Thankfully, he had risen above all that. He had cast aside his mortality and now he had risen to something of a god. The thought soothed his mind as he quickly walked away from town and towards an old cemetery. Although the reapers he had left behind no longer reported in, his own investigations had revealed there had been someone working in the graveyard that matched William's description. If this was true, then perhaps he could end William's life with his own two hands.

There was an old man leaning heavily on a shovel as Collins approached; drinking something from a bottle. His right wrist had been wrapped and bandaged tightly, but he seemed to handle the bottle well enough as he tipped it up for another long drink. "Excuse me, sir," Collins said, "Perhaps you could help me." He hated talking so kindly to such a lowly man, and his stomach churned at his performance.

The man turned around and regarded him briefly with bleary eyes before spitting on the ground. He was certainly a disgusting fellow, and Collins almost recoiled at the stench. "What do ya want?" he slurred.

Collins managed a smile. "Are you Mr. Harris?" he asked.

"I am."

"Well, I got word that my son might be working for you," Collins said. The smile on his face became painful as he pressed on. "My son, William, and I had a bit of row and he left suddenly. I wanted to find him so that I could apologize. He's a tall..."

"Don't bother with a description," Harris said, "I know who ya be talkin' bout." He took another long drink before slamming the empty bottle to the ground. "Yer son did this before he left." Harris held up his bandaged wrist. "Broke it, he did. And he damaged the cottage he was renting from me. Then he just took off. Don't know where he be now." Harris rubbed his chin as he eyed Collins. "Ya say ya be his father?" he asked.

"I did," Collins replied.

"Then ya can pay his bill!" Harris said, "and add a bit extra for me poor wrist." He laughed loudly; his voice echoing through the nearly empty cemetery. "After all, ya wouldn't want me to cause any trouble fer ya boy." He laughed again.

"That doesn't sound like William," Collins said through clenched teeth, "Where is this cottage that he damaged?"

"It's right over here," Harris answered, as he stepped by Collins to point to a small cottage in the middle of the cemetery.

"I see," Collins said. Without any emotion, his hands shot out as he put a hand on either side of Harris's greasy head. Before the old man had any time to react or to even guess what was happening, Collins twisted his head quickly; cleanly snapping his neck with an audible crunch. He released Harris and allowed his body to fall lifelessly to the ground. "Greedy old drunk," he mumbled, as he started to turn away, "You were utterly useless to me."

The stench of demons suddenly washed over the area, and Collins was immediately on the alert. He narrowed his eyes as he tried to focus on where the smell of originating from, and he realized that a mass of demons was suddenly on the move. There were none visible, but they were on the move, and Collins knew that this was something that needed to be investigated further. Stealthily, he rushed towards the scent as he followed at a distance.

As the smell became stronger, Collins took the trees as it was important that he wasn't spotted. Even someone as powerful as he was would have been foolish to try and tackles this many demons at once. He began to see some of the foul beasts below him; scurrying forward as if rushing towards a great feast. Never before had he seen so many, so his movements became more and more cautious until at last he saw that the demons were circling what appeared to be an old church.

And Sutcliff was standing in the doorway.

Collins could have cheered. He had finally found his prey, and he was sure that Spears had to be nearby if that cursed redhead was here. He could swoop in easily and destroy both of them while they were at their most vulnerable. At least, he could have done so if not for the demons. There was still quite a distance before he reached the sacred ground that the demons could not step foot on, and they would most likely attack if he advanced.

He sat up in the tree and simply watched. This was good enough for now. After all, he knew where they were hiding, and they were effectively trapped by a broad circle of demons. If, by some chance, they did manage to survive all this, he would kill them.

Such was his destiny.

 

((x))

 

William awoke slowly and with difficulty. It was as if sleep was desperately trying to pull him back under, but he knew he had to awaken. He could hear Beau whining and Grell softly trying to sooth the dog, but he still couldn't seem to rouse himself from his slumber. Then the smell of demons hit him with almost a physical force, which caused his eyelids to fly open as he jumped to his feet. "Grell," he said, "What's going on?"

She looked back at him, and he saw that she had already summoned her scythe. "It looks like they found us, darling," she said.

He walked up beside her to look out the open door. His heart sunk as he saw row after row of demon staring with hungry, open mouths and claws bared.

"They've surrounded the house," Grell added, "All of them just beyond the boundary. They can't enter apparently."

"But we can't leave either," he said, "Nor can anyone come to us." He slumped against the door frame as his eyes drifted down towards he scythe. "You aren't planning to fight them, are you?" he asked.

She shrugged. "When it was just a small handful I was going to," she admitted, "but even I'm not going to try to fight all of them." Beau whined again, and she petted his large head. "I don't think we'd stand a chance. I'm all for being reckless, but I've put suicidal urges behind me." She looked out again. "What are we going to do?"

"There's nothing we can do," he said, "At least, not right now. They can't get to us, so we're safe. We might be trapped, but we're safe. With the supplies that Anderson left and the food we've been growing, we can survive here safely for many months." He sighed loudly. "Although I'm tempted to simply hand myself over if they would allow you to escape unharmed."

"What?" she cried, "Why would you do that?"

"It's me they want," he said, "I'm the one who's possessed."

"No," she said, and suddenly hugged him tightly. "They only want us dead anyway. I wouldn't doubt if Collins sent them."

"Do you think he would work with demons?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," she said against his chest, "But we can't give up. Neither of us can." She pulled closer to him so that her voice was muffled. "I finally have my family, and I'm not giving either of you up without a fight."

He smiled as he pushed her back gently to place a hand gently on her abdomen. "You're right," he said, "I have to stay here so we can protect each other and Oliver." She returned his smile, as she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and leaned forward for a kiss. "They're watching us," he said.

"Let them watch," she whispered, "Let them see what true love looks like."

Putting aside his natural modesty, he returned her kiss - not even shying away as it turned more passionate. After he few minutes, he stepped back. "Let's take this inside," he said as he gently guided her back into the chair and shut the door behind them.

 

((x))

 

William was asleep again; lying in the arms of his wife and he slept soundly. He had tried to push the worry out of his mind and focus solely on her, but it was all a ruse. Martin knew all his thoughts all too well, and he knew that William was afraid - more for Grell and his unborn child than for himself, but he was seriously afraid. Martin laughed as he danced on the rusted table in the garden. For so long he had planned and schemed, but he had never imagined things were turn out so well. A simple chance meeting had put him on this path. He would soon be be filled for all eternity with the soul of a reaper, and it didn't matter which one, and he would be the demon who would allow the very powers of Hell to reign on Earth.

The table broke beneath him, and even in this state he felt the pain as the broken metal cut his leg, but all he could do was laugh. William could sit here where he thought it was safe, but Martin already knew how things would end. It was all going to plan.

Deep in his sleep, William's mouth opened slightly as a dark laugh spilled from his lips. Grell stirred slightly, but she didn't awaken. She only moved closer to William and curled tighter in the blankets.

Yes, it was almost time.


	27. Chapter 27

Othello carefully watched Miss Fletcher over the tops of his cards, but there was no change in her demeanor or expression as he reached forward to select a card. She was far better at bluffing then him, as much as he hated to admit it even to himself, but at least playing cards was a decent way to pass the time. He quietly let out a sigh of relief as he paired the ten he had drawn with the one in his hand and set it aside. "I'm winning this hand," he said before he unconsciously reached over to take out another piece of licorice before remembering he had already eaten all of it.

"Do you think so?" she asked with a sly smile, "You haven't won a game for a while."

"I just had a run of bad luck," he said, but he couldn't help but return the smile. He fanned out his cards to give her a better chance to take one. "I'm glad you found these cards."

"So am I," she agreed, "I felt like I was going a bit crazy just sitting around staring at the monitors - waiting for something to happen and terrified for when it does." She motioned to the nearby screens, but her face fell as she focused on one image. "It looks like Collins is back," she said flatly.

Without speaking, Othello set his cards face down on the table and scooted his chair over to click a few buttons so they could both hear and see into Collins's office. A part of Othello didn't want anything more to do with Collins, but he knew that they needed to know what what happening so that they could possibly have some preparation.

"I never knew there could be so many demons," Collins said; his voice cracking slightly through the speakers, "but I saw them." With a cold, detached smile, he turned towards another man in the room, and Othello recognized the other individual as a scientist named Clark. Othello had only spoken with him a few times, but he had always felt as if there was something slightly off with Clark. It wasn't something he could pinpoint exactly, but the fact that Clark was choosing to associate with Collins only gave more evidence to the idea that he couldn't be trusted.

"Why would demons surround the traitors?" Clark asked.

"It doesn't matter," Collins said, "but those creatures will do our job for us. Spears and Sutcliff can't leave that sacred ground or the demons will kill them, but we'll keep on an eye on the situation. If the demons do fail, then we'll end Spears ourselves. I think he's as good as dead now. Just as he should be." Collins laughed as he sat down. "So what news do you have about the chips?"

Clark pulled out a long, slender device from his pocket. "This will allow you to control all or just a few of a chips," he explained, "It's a smaller version of the main control panel in my office. If we see a chip start to disintegrate, you can stop the chip or simply destroy the subject."

Othello's jaw dropped. "There's a control panel," he said softly.

"Othello?" Miss Fletcher asked.

"There's a control panel," he said louder, "I might be able to use these monitors to get a good look at it, or Clark might have even put diagrams or specs of this machine in the system." A fevered light lit his eyes as he looked back at her. "We might be able to stop Collins after all," he said, "or at least rescue those he's already chipped."

"Do you think you can do that?" she asked.

"I might," he answered, but then he frowned slightly, "Who's that in Will's old office?" he asked. He pulled up another screen to reveal a woman nervously pacing back and forth. Although the sound was off, it was clear that her lips were moving, and it appeared she was talking to herself.

"Emily!" Miss Fletcher.

"Who?"

"Emily," she repeated, "She was dating Knox when....everything happened. Poor girl. She took it hard."

Othello nodded as he turned up the sound. Soon, Emily's soft, scratchy voice filled the room.

"Where did you go?" Emily asked, "You were quiet, and I was afraid you were gone. I'm so happy you're back, Ronald. I missed you. When I can I see you again?"

Frowning, Othello turned the sound off once again. "Sounds like it," he said, "Was she chipped too?"

Miss Fletcher nodded. "It hurts to see her like that," she said.

"Well," he said, "I can't bring anyone back, but the chip is probably making things worse. If I can figure out how this control panel works, I might be able to create my own or make something to turn it off. Maybe I can help her." He took a deep breath as he faced the monitors. "Maybe I can help us all."

 

((x))

 

August was like a great, yellow dog that sat solidly over the church as it lapped up all the water and left everyone to sweat and swelter in its heat. Grell walked through her garden; pausing slightly to wipe the sweat from her forehead before allotting a bit of the precious water to the plants. She had worked so hard to get everything to grow, but now the heat threatened to burn everything in the field before they even had a chance to harvest anything. Glancing up at the sky, she pushed aside her sweaty locks of hair before looking out in the distance. The demons were still there. They were always there these days; just watching with their hungry, beastly eyes. It annoyed her greatly, but she only smiled at them before tossing her hair dramatically over her shoulder. She added an extra sway to her walk as she made her way back to the church, although one hand moved unconsciously to protectively cover her now expanding middle. She was showing now, which always provided her great delight. Whenever she needed to talk, she would rub her belly and talk to Oliver as he was there in her arms. In another four months, he should be in her arms, and the thought always made her smile. Her dreams were truly almost at hand.

It was only mildly cooler inside, but she shut the door to at least block off the sun. Allowing her confident smile to melt, she allowed herself a sip of water before checking on William. He was sleeping quietly on their shared bed, but his face was pinched slightly as if he was in pain. There was little to do during the heat of the day, but she was worried about him. He was sleeping more each day, and she could tell that he was growing steadily more tired despite his attempts to hide it. He was trying to be so brave, but she knew he was as scared as she. In her heart, she kept telling herself how they were going to get through all this and be a happy family, but she was still afraid.

Sitting down on a nearby chair, she rubbed her stomach. "Ollie," she whispered, "Please know how much your parents love you. We'll do anything for you and for each other." Tears came to her eyes as she spoke; her emotions shifting more rapidly these days. "You'll find out in time, but your father has no clue how good of a father he will be. I remember back when Ronnie..." Her voice choked off as the tears slipped down her face and fell unto her lap. With all her own worries, she had almost forgotten about poor Ronald.

"Grell?"

Wiping away her tears quickly, she looked over at William. Sleep still clung to his features, but she didn't want to know she had been crying. "Darling," she said, "You're awake. Did you have a nice nap?"

He sat up slowly and reached for her. "You've been crying," he said, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she lied, "Are you hungry?"

"That's not true," he said, but his voice was gentle, "I heard you." His eyes took on a sad light as his gaze drifted towards the floor. "You...you mentioned Knox."

Her tears returned as if they had never stopped. "I'm sorry, Will," she said, "I didn't want to upset you." She allowed him to wipe away her tears. "I was just thinking about what a good father you will be to Ollie - like how you acted as a mentor to Ronnie when he was in the academy."

"That was my job," he said.

"You went beyond that," she insisted, "Ronnie could have easily been on of those recruits who slipped through the cracks, but you were there for him. You guided him and listened when he needed to talk."

He nodded before he stood up. "And then I killed him," he said, "Maybe I did try to protect him, but he died by my hand."

"You didn't kill him," Grell countered, as she wrapped her arms around him and held her face against his chest. "We've talked about that. The demon killed him, but you still feel guilt." She sighed quietly as she held him. "You're a good man," she said, "and Ronald knew that. He wouldn't want to see you beat yourself up over something you didn't have any control over, but he would be happy for us now. Ronnie and I talked a lot about my dreams. He'd be thrilled to see us married and expecting."

"Do you really think so?" he asked.

She nodded before looking up at him. "Ronnie always knew how much I loved you, and he thought you were an excellent man," she said, "You were more than just mentor to him. You were like a father, and Ronnie would have known that you'd make an exceptional father one day."

William stepped back slightly to place a shaking hand over her abdomen - over their child. "Maybe Oliver is my second chance," he said, "A chance to do things right."

"We're both getting second chances, dear," she said, "but we're not going to fail. We have each other now and Ollie."

He kissed her gently as she held him. "Thank you," he whispered, "Thank you for everything." Carefully they sat down on the bed and just held to each other in the quiet little church surrounded by demons.

 

((x))

 

The air was stale and thick as Anderson walked into the velvet darkness. The sounds of his footfalls seemed muted and distance, as if the darkness was trying to blanket all noise, but he kept his face calm and emotionless as he stepped into a tiny pillar of light.

"Why have you come here?" a voice hissed, "This is not your realm, reaper." Angry voices began to rise and fall all around him; faceless voices that sounded like distant thunder just before a great storm.

"I have come to ask for your help," Anderson said, "The prophesy is unfolding, but things are on the verge of going awry. It's too much for a single reaper, and it is not fair to William. None of this is his fault, but he's forced to face the near impossible."

"That is not our concern," replied the nameless voice, "We do not care for prophesies or what happens among reapers or humans."

There was the swish of an unseen wing. "Those things are sorted out below us," stated another, "We watch if it catches our interest, but it is not our job nor even our desire to help."

"You are beneath us," said a third voice, "Why should we be concerned or move to offer assistance?"

Anderson gritted his teeth. He still had a distinct memory of his mother talking about the beauty and glory of the angels, and a part of him was thankful she had never had an audience with one. Haughty, proud creatures - they were little better than demons in many regards, They'd get involved in mortal affairs if it suited their interests but retained their sense of superiority. "I've come humbly to ask for your help," he said, "Perhaps these events do not affect you, but what is happening just isn't right. William had no choice. He was born as the one spoken of in prophesies, but he was never given an option. His path was carved for him, and now it might eve kill him. This isn't fair, and I think he needs to given a better chance to succeed."

There was a low, rumbling laughter. "None of that is our concern. We didn't force him on this path or take away his chances. That was because the actions of another, as you well know." There was more laughter, and Anderson fought the urge to scream. "Now, get out of here reaper. This is not your place, nor is it our place to help. Things are unfolding and we wish to watch."

 Anderson didn't bow his head humbly at their decision, which was expected of him. Instead, he turned and stopped from the room as the rage seethed just below the surface. As he left the darkness and went through the large doors that led out of this realm, however, tears were starting to burn his eyes. This had been a last resort for him. He hadn't wanted to ask for the angels' help, but he had grown desperate. Now he was cut off completely from William, and he was helpless to do anything.

As he stepped into the void between realms, Perkins immediately stepped forward. He gave Anderson a nervous smile, but his face soon dropped when he saw the tears in the older reaper's eyes. "Sir?" he asked, "It didn't go well?"

Anderson shook his head. "I didn't expect it to," he admitted, "but I still had hope. It's not like we're asking for much, but those winged fools won't lift a finger to help anyone. They prefer just to watch."

"So what can we do now?" Perkins asked.

"Nothing we can do," Anderson said, "We'll go back to the living world for now and do the best we can to keep an eye on them. We can't get too close with all those demons, but maybe can do something. Anything." He created a portal, but it was hard for him to catch his breath. He wanted to shout, cry, curse - do anything but just wait around.

Perkins watched him carefully. "You really care for Mr. Spears, don't you?" he asked.

There was a long pause as Anderson tried to gather his thoughts. "I've known who and what William was for more than a century," he said slowly, "Among the reapers, I alone had that knowledge, but I wasn't allowed to say a word. I couldn't warn him or even provide guidance. Knowing all I did, I couldn't even act as if there was anything different about him. It was hard, and every day that went back only made it harder." He turned slightly to look at Perkins. "William's on a dangerous path and he has been fated to be on that path since the moment he was born - and it was not because of his choices or actions. No, it was because of choices others made. Others have acted recklessly, and he is the one to pay the price for their sins."

"I don't understand," Perkins said, "Who did what exactly and how did that affect Mr. Spears?"

"It doesn't matter now," Anderson replied, "Now, all we can do is to hope that he's able to make it through. He still has a chance to truly become New Death, but it looks like he'll have to do it on his own."

Without another word, he stepped through the portal knowing that Perkins would follow.

 

((x))

 

William lay silently on the bed as he stared up at the darkened ceiling. Grell lay in his arms; her head lying on his chest as she slept lightly, but even her comforting weight couldn't calm his mind or settle his racing thoughts. She seemed so confident that everything was going to turn out for the best, but there were times he could see the worry clearly stamped in her beautiful eyes. Throughout all this, all he had wanted to do was to protect her, but he feared that he had failed her in that regard. It was doubtful that the demons that surrounded them had any plans to allow her to live. They were both trapped - temporarily safe but the danger was close at hand.

With a loud sigh, William got up from bed carefully so not to wake Grell. She mumbled a bit as he moved, but she remained blissfully asleep as he quietly padded across the room to open the door. The night brought a certain relief from the blistering heat of the day, but the demons remained gathered around the edges of the property. He could see them easily in the night, just as he knew the could see him. "What are you doing here?" he whispered.

"Isn't it obvious, Willy boy?" asked a familiar voice, "They're all just waiting."

To his surprise and horror, William turned only to see the demon that called itself Martin standing on the other side of the door frame. "How are you here?" he asked, but then his eyes drifted downwards. While Martin appeared solid from the waist up, his lower half had taken on a gaseous form that floated above the ground. "You're getting stronger," William said with sudden realization.

"As you get weaker," Martin replied.

"But you still can't take a fully solid form, yet."

"This is sacred ground," Martin said, "besides, I'm still a part of you. I just thought it would be best for us to have a one on one discussion outside of your dream." He laughed lightly as he turned to look out the door. "Quite the gathering, wouldn't you say?"

"Did you call them here?" asked William.

Martin shrugged. "Perhaps," he replied mysteriously, "What is to happen here is quite the miracle after all. It would be a shame for anyone to miss out."

"You bastard," William growled, "I made a contract with you. Grell and our child were to remain safe."

"And I will not touch a single red strand on Grell's head," Martin said, "As long as I get your soul, Grell's is safe with me."

William grabbed Martin's collar; more than a little surprised that he could feel the fabric in his hands. "But you called them," he said, as he pointed out the open door, "How do I know they won't hurt her?"

Martin's smile contorted so that it looked less like his lost breather and more like the beast that this creature truly was. "You don't," he said, "Of course, Grell still might be safe. After all, she's not the one they're after."

William gasped as anger flooded his senses. "They will not get my son!" he roared, "I will protect Oliver no matter what!"

"Will?" Grell asked sleepily, "What are you doing?"

"It's nothing," he said, as he looked over at her sitting up on the bed. Her hair was delightfully mussed as the moonlight highlighted her figure. "I just have to take care of this." Tearing his eyes away from Grell, he prepared to yell at Martin once more to proclaim Oliver's safety.

But he was only holding a jacket.

The image of his brother was gone, and a part of William knew that he had never been there. The demon had been talking to him through his mind, and he could still hear its horrid laughter. It had tricked him and caused him to lose his composure while demonstrating how strong it was becoming. He suddenly felt weak, and he slipped down to his knees upon the cool stones of the floor.

"Darling, what's wrong?" Grell cried as she jumped from the bed to rush to his side. "Are you okay?"

William looked up at her miserably. "We were wrong," he said, "The demons aren't after us or our souls. They are after our son. They want Oliver."

Grell's face paled and knelt by his side. Instead of saying anything, she wrapped her arms about him tightly. Within her, William could feel Oliver move and he silently made a promise to his son. The demons would never have him.


	28. Chapter 28

The oppressive heat had slowly lifted; leaving cooler and more reasonable temperatures behind, but the damage had already done. Most of Grell's hard work in the garden had gone to waste as the crops had withered and fried, and there was no real time to plant as an early autumn was hovering on the horizon. Unconsciously, Grell bit the inside of her cheek as she looked over the ruined garden before walking to the cellar William had so carefully repaired. Their supplies were starting to run low. They wouldn't be starving in the next week, but even if they were careful, it would doubtful that they would have enough food to survive the winter - and that was only considering the two of them. With a pained smile, she put her left hand on her distended abdomen. If all went well, little Ollie should arrive the first part of December, but she was scared. She would do anything for a chance to hold her child, but not being able to provide for him would be a horrible nightmare. The demons still had them surrounded and they had given no sign of retreat. She was determined to survive all this so that she would have a happy future with her family, she just wasn't sure how to do that yet.

Gathering a few potatoes and other vegetables, she walked back into the converted church through a rear door. "I think I'll make us some soup for dinner," she said.

William turned to look at her from where he sat on the floor near the open door with Beau by his side. "You look stressed," he said, "Is anything wrong?"

As usual, she was surprised by how perceptive he could be, but she only smiled. "It's okay, darling," she replied, as she sat down the vegetables.

He looked at her for a few moments silently before he held out his hand towards her. "Grell," he said, "Come here a moment."

"What is it?" she asked.

"Just come here," he said, "Sit beside me. We need to talk."

Although she was confused, she did as she was asked and walked over to him to sit down on the floor. "Yes, darling?"

He didn't speak at first. Instead, he reached out gently touched her face. "I'm scared," he finally admitted.

"I understand," she said, reaching up to put her hand over his, "but it's going to be okay."

"It's more than just all this," he said; motioning his head towards the demons in the distance, "Much more." He paused again as he seemed to search for the right words. "You don't know the thoughts that go through my mind sometimes," he continued, "I'm worried for you. There are times I feel tempted to revert to my old ways. In order to protect you, I think about pushing you away. Purposely hurting you so you'll leave me here, and maybe you'll be able to save yourself." He pulled her closer. "But I'm not going to do that," he said, "I'm not going to go back to that stupid man I used to be. I don't want to hurt you, and I never want to lie to you again. I'll be honest with you; I'll do anything to save you, but I'm not going to hurt you or push you way. Never again."

Tears came to her eyes. "You don't know how much that means to me," she whispered, "and I think I know why the demon wants you to push me away."

"Why?"

She placed her hand upon his chest; just over his heart. "Because we love each other," she said, "You know demons don't understand love. They want to think it's a weakness, but it's clear how strong it has made you - has made us. It knows we're stronger together."

He sighed. "I still wish there was some way I could get you out of all this," he said, "but I also can't imagine not having you with me."

"Nor can I imagine me without you," she replied, "I wasn't complete before you." She fiddled with his shirt for a minute as she struggled with her own thoughts. "You have been perfectly honest with me," she said, "but...I wasn't totally honest with you."

"About what?" he asked.

"When you asked if anything was wrong earlier," she clarified, "I was a bit stressed." She raised her eyes to meet his directly. "We're running low on food."

"How low?"

She shrugged. "If we ration carefully," she said, "we might have enough for a month - maybe two."

"And you need more of it then me," he said, "because you're eating for two."

She opened her mouth to argue, but she knew that there was some truth in what he was saying. "But you have to eat enough to keep your strength," she finally stated. "We have to both remain strong for each other." Leaning into his arms. "I'm scared too," she admitted.

In the distance, they heard the demons laughing. With their ears, they had undoubtedly heard every word of their conversation, but she didn't care. It didn't matter if the demons knew that she was scared. They also knew that they were never going to simply give up.

 

((x))

 

Miss Fletcher walked slowly through the small, dark rooms as she checked to make sure nothing was out of place. At this point, she was driven by boredom and the desperate need to do something. Othello was working on creating a device to shut down the chips implanted by Collins, but she felt useless and out of place. Quietly, she walked up behind him as he diligently tinkered with the device. "Do you need anything?" she asked, "I just put on some coffee."

"No thanks," he said, "I'd prefer something sweet. Besides, I'm about ready to test this thing."

"Do you think you'll be able to shut down all the chips?"

Othello shrugged. "I'm not sure. Right now, I'm just focusing on interfering with the signal. Even that will stop or at least limit Collins's control."

"That would be a start," she agreed, as she glanced up at the screens. For the first time, she noticed the main screen was focused on Emily as she paced back and forth in William's office. "Poor Emily," she said, "It's sad to see her like that."

"I might be able to help her soon," he said, "I'm going to focus on her with my first experiment."

Miss Fletcher gasped as her eyes grew wide. "You can't use her like some sort of guinea pig!"

He looked up at her. "I have to make sure that it works," he said, "before I employ it long range."

"But that's so cruel!" she exclaimed, "What if it destroys her mind?"

"Lucille," he said quietly.

It was so rare that anyone used her first name, she immediately hushed, but tears begin to roll down her face.

"Lucille," he repeated, "Look at her. Her mind is already being destroyed. Maybe I can help her or maybe she's too far gone. I don't know yet, but we have to take this chance. This might be the only way we can save her or anyone else."

After a few minutes, she nodded her head. "Go ahead then," she said, "but I can't watch."

She turned around so that he could test his device. She expected to hear sparks or pained screams but what followed was several minutes of silence until she heard Emily soft, clear voice come through the speakers.

"Ronald?" Emily said in a quiet, questioning tone.

Miss Fletcher turned around. "Did it work?" she asked. She could see Emily on the screen now; looking less agitated and slightly less confused. She was no longer pacing as she looked around as if examining her surroundings for the first time.

"I think so," he said, smiling, "She's still confused, but that's to be expected." He stood up and smiled brightly. "But I think it worked. Now, I just have to amplify the signal, and we might just be able to block all of Collins's control."

Feeling relieved for the first time since this had all started, Miss Fletcher smiled and hugged Othello suddenly. At first, his body stiffened at the sudden contact, but then he relaxed as he wrapped his arms around her.

 

((x))

 

Perkins slowly walked up the hill to where Anderson was sitting on a large rock. To the casual observer, Anderson might have seemed calm and even serene, but Perkins could see the tension gathered around his mouth and brow. There was a far away look in his eyes as he stared out into the distance without actually seeing anything, but it was clear that he knew that Anderson was approaching. The old reaper had no lost any of his senses. "You went to spy on the demons?" Anderson asked.

"Yes, sir," Perkins replied, "but I was careful not to be seen or detected by them."

"That's good," Anderson said, "Did you learn anything of interest?"

Perkins hesitated as he searched for the right words. "Well," he began, "they were laughing. They said that Spears and Sutcliff are running low on food. The demons think that they are going to have to leave the sacred ground soon. That's what the demons are waiting on."

Anderson's face grew tighter, but he didn't respond at first as he simply stared out at the horizon.

"What are we going to do?" asked Perkins, "We have to get some food to them. Couldn't you create a portal so we can get there safely?"

"I can't," Anderson replied, "A portal could create an area of instability nullify the sacred grounds of the church. If that happened even only briefly, those beasts would all swarm in."

"But we can't let them starve," Perkins said, "There has to be something we can do."

"I don't think there is," Anderson said, "Perhaps it was all meant to happen this way. You can't fight fate."

"What are you talking about?" Perkins insisted, "What's all this talk about fate."

Anderson stood up and walked to the edge of the bank. "I've done all I can to help him," he said quietly, "but I know it's not enough. No matter how hard I try, it will never be enough. No, William was fated from the moment he was born to face all this. I could never save him."

Perkins moved closer to the older reaper. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked, "I always get the feeling you know more about all this, but you won't tell me. What is it? What do you know?"

"It doesn't matter," Anderson said, "All we can do now is to wait and watch."

"Maybe that's all you can do," Perkins said, "but I'm not going to sit by and watch anyone go hungry." He was growing angrier with each passing moment. "You act like you care for them, but you're so willing to watch them suffer. Well, I'm not. I'm going to do something. I'm going to help."

With new determination, he stomped away. He wasn't sure if Anderson turned to watch him leave or not, but he didn't care. He just knew he had to do something.

 

((x))

 

William was lying in bed almost asleep when a commotion erupted outside. He was jerked awake, and instantly reached over to Grell's side of the bed only to find it vacant. Outside, he heard a shout of pain, the growling of demons, and Beau's sharp bark, but it was the sound of Grell's death scythe that immediately brought him to his feet. Pushing aside his drowsiness, he ran from the church and into the darkening twilight. Grell was running towards the demons; barefoot and only clothed in William's shirt. Her scythe roared in her hand, all but drowning out Beau's frantic bark, as she ran fearlessly towards the demons. Some of the demons were facing her; their eyes glistening and fangs bared, but others were occupied by a writhing figure on the ground. William didn't take time to figure out what was going as he raced after his wife. All the tiredness which had been plaguing his body fled as he picked up speed. Soon, he caught up to Grell, and pulled her back. She gasped and turned to look at him in horror.

"Perkins!" she shouted, "They're attacking Perkins. They're going to kill him!"

He turned, but he could barely see the unconscious bleeding figure of the young reaper beneath the horde of demonic figures. A growl from somewhere deep in his throat ripped free as all his anger and frustration rose to the surface. A burning sensation began to rip through his body; originating from the ring on his finger, and he was vaguely aware of a brilliant blue light surrounding him. With a roar, he swung his own scythe into the mass. The demons tried to jump back, but the same blue light that surrounded William shot forth like a blade made of pure energy. Their final screams were those of agony as their twisted, burning bodies fell to the ground.

Weakened, William collapsed to his knees as Anderson appeared on the far side of the field. He ran forward to gather Perkins, but the demons who hadn't been injured were already closing in. With a look of sadness and regret, Anderson created a portal behind him to drag Perkins to safety. William didn't say a word as he watched, but his eyes fell upon a crate lying on the ground. It was clear that Perkins had been trying to bring them food when the demons had fallen upon them.

"Darling," Grell gasped, as she dropped to her knees beside him. Beau whined as he sat down beside them protectively.

"What were you doing out here?" William asked.

"I couldn't sleep," Grell said, "So I was walking around outside when I saw Perkins. He was trying to sneak in to bring us some supplies, but the demons saw him. Do you think he'll be okay, Will?"

"I don't know," he answered honestly, "Demons have a certain amount of toxins in their claws, but at least Anderson got him to safety." He started to struggle to his feet, but he stumbled. All that energy had faded and he was left more exhausted than ever.

"Let me help you," Grell offered, as she put his arm around her shoulders to help him stand.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, "You shouldn't be lifting me in your condition."

She laughed lightly. "I'm only pregnant," she said, "and you need my help. Come on. I'm as strong as I've ever been."

Seeing that she was right in that, he allowed her to help him inside and back to bed. "This is getting to be a desperate situation," he said, "We might have to do something desperate to get out of here."

"I know, darling," she said, quietly, "but don't worry about that now. Just rest."

He wanted to argue, but he soon found himself drifting to sleep in her comforting arms.

 

((x))

 

Collins sat at his desk as he drummed his fingers; a sinister smile creeping along his face. "You say that some reaper tried to give Spears supplies?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied his assistant, "One of our spies got the story. Apparently a reaper that had been left behind to search for Spears and Sutcliff, a Mr. Perkins to be exact, tried to get to the church. He was stopped by the demons."

"Is he dead?" asked Collins.

"No. It appears that Spears was able to hold off the demons and that traitor Anderson rescued Perkins. He'll probably die anyway with his injuries."

"That's really not my concern," Collins said, "but this does give me an idea. All this time, we've been waiting for the demons to end their pathetic lives. It's not a bad plan, but we're still leaving a bit to chance. A demon, after all, can not enter the grounds, but a reaper would have no issue."

"Are you planning to go there yourself?" This assistant was new, and Collins had bothered to learn his name. In his mind, he called him Mr. Young as he was a recent graduate.

"No," Collins said, "I'm needed here. Besides, this is most likely a suicide mission. However, I know precisely who to send." He laughed lightly as he stood up. "After all," he said, "everyone has their uses, even when they appear to be broken."


	29. Chapter 29

Collins smiled darkly at Mr. Young as he retrieved a small device from his desk drawer. He turned the knob and punched in the sequence he had been taught by the inventor before speaking softly into the receiver. "Emily," he said, "It's time. Come to my office, and I'll give you your chance at revenge." Chuckling to himself, he set the device on the desk to wait for her arrival.

"You plan to send her?" Mr. Young asked, "Do you think she can get past the demons?"

Collins shrugged. "It doesn't matter. If she doesn't, then I won't have to worry about eliminating her later. Her death might even be enough to draw those two deserters out. If Emily does make it onto the sacred ground, they only know her as the grieving girlfriend of Knox. They will trust her, so she can get close." He laughed, but it was not a pleasant sound. "This broken girl just might be the key to ending Spears once and for all."

Quietly he waited, but as he listened to clock ticking on the wall, he began to feel apprehensive. He hadn't seen Emily in a long time and had bothered trying to pinpoint her location. He was trying to be patient since he had no idea where she had been all this time, but his patience was rapidly fading. His smile fading, he grabbed the device once again.

"Emily!" he shouted, "Come to my office - now! Hurry up!"

He slammed the device down as he started to work with main controller. "Where is she?" he growled, as he twisted the knobs.

"Perhaps something happened to her," Mr. Young suggested.

"We'll fine out soon," Collins said, "I just have to use this to locate her. When I find her, she had better be unable to answer. How dare she try to stand up to me. I am New Death!" Spittle was flying from his mouth as his bloodshot eyes examined the readings. "Where is she?" he screamed again, "Her signal is just...gone! All signals are gone!"

Jumping to his feet, he slammed his palm against the machine. It slid slightly, but it didn't fall off the desk. That didn't matter to him, however, as one thing became very clear. He was no longer in control over the reapers who had been chipped.

 

((x))

 

Miss Fletcher held her breath as she watched the scene unfold. One one screen, she watched as Collins shouted; his language growing worse with each passing second as he slapped at his precious machine. One the other scene, Emily sat quietly in William's office as she stared out the window. She hadn't even heard Collins's calling her, which made it clear that Othello's experiment had been successful.

"You did it!" she cried, as she jumped forward to wrap her arms around Othello. "You've blocked the signal! I can't believe you did it! You're amazing!"

"I just did what any genius would do," he said confidently.

"So, we're safe now?" she asked, as she stepped back, "I mean, Collins isn't controlling anyone. We should be able to leave this place."

Othello's confident smile slipped. "There were those who followed Collins even before he chipped anyone," he said, "We've made a huge first step, but I don't think it's safe just yet. Besides..." His voice trailed off as he looked around their dark quarters. "I don't know the way out of here. We have to wait for Pops."

Miss Fletcher nodded and opened her mouth to speak when a portal suddenly appeared on the far side of the room. Almost as if he had heard them talking, Anderson stepped through the portal as he looked about frantically. His face was pale and his eyes wide as he turned towards them. Even in the dim light, she could see the blood staining his clothes as the portal closed behind him.

"I need supplies," Anderson gasped, "Medical supplies. He's been hurt. Those demons were everywhere."

"What happened?" Miss Fletcher asked, "Who was hurt?"

"Perkins," Anderson replied, "He was trying to get food to Spears and Sutcliff, but the demons got him." He shook his head. "He might die," he said, "I have to try to help him before the demon's venom takes effect."

"Bring him here," Othello said, "I'm not a doctor, but I'm the close as we have right now. Besides, the supplies are here."

"I can't," Anderson said, "Perkins was chipped. He's been fighting against it, but Collins could still use the chip to find us or to cause Perkins to attack."

"But Othello blocked Collins's signal," Miss Fletcher announced, "It's safe now."

Anderson's eyes grew even wider as he turned towards Othello. "Is that true?" he asked.

Othello nodded. "It's been tested and everything," he said, "In fact, we're were just wondering if it was safe to leave."

"Probably not yet," Anderson mumbled, "Still too many variables, but I'll bring Perkins." His eyes distant as it appeared his mind was on something else, he created a new portal and disappeared. A few seconds later, he returned carrying the bloodied, crumbled body of a young reaper Miss Fletcher assumed to be Perkins. She didn't think she had ever met him before, but she doubted that she would have been able to recognize him even if she had known him. His face had been shredded by claws, and she knew the demons' venom was coursing through his body. Demons carried a toxic in their claws that was quite dangerous to reapers. Even in small amounts, it could be fatal.

"Put him on the cot," Othello said, "I have some antivenom here. I'll get a dose ready. Miss Fletcher, I'm going to need you to start cleaning his wounds. We don't need any of them to get infected."

"Of course," she said, as she hurried over to get some clean clothes and antiseptic.

"Thank you," Anderson said, "I didn't know what to do. You don't know how much this means to me. I feel...I feel like this is all my fault."

Miss Fletcher was surprised by his words, but then her eyes drifted over to the monitors. "Pops," she said, "you know we'll do all we can, but can I ask you to do one favor for me? I know how silly it sounds, but there is one thing I'd like you to do if you can."

With red eyes, Anderson looked at her and nodded.

 

((X))

 

William walked slowly along the perimeter of the sacred grounds as he stared at the demons. They seemed to multiply in numbers with each passing day, and he knew there was no way that they could escape without being attacked. All exits had been blocked. Beau walked with him, but he growled as he looked out at the demons. William reached down to pet him reassuringly, but it did little good. He glanced back at the rebuilt church, but there was no movement. Apparently Grell had no yet awaken from her nap.

"You look desperate," a voice stated nearby.

Turning, William found the speaker to be one of the few demons who had remained in a human form. He appeared to be an average man with greying hair and dark eyes, but William knew exactly what sort of foul creature lurked beneath that casual facade. "You would prefer me to be desperate no doubt," he said.

The demon shrugged. "It makes no difference to me really," it replied, "Of course, if you are desperate, you'd more likely to do something foolish, and that does interest me."

William gritted his teeth. "You're nothing but a beast," he said, "waiting for the right moment to strike. I don't see how your kind stands that sort of existence." He paused as he struggled to gain control over himself and show the cold composure that had so attracted Grell initially. "But you are right about being desperate," he said with faux calmness, "In fact, name your price. I will give you anything that I can if you allow my wife and child to leave this place safely."

There was a roar of demonic laughter. "Don't flatter yourself or your so-called wife," the demon said, "We don't want either one of you. By now, you should precisely what we want."

William felt a cold wind slip past him; chilling him to his very core as he said the words. "My son?"

"That's all we want," the demon said with a nod, "The child should be born in December. That's three months from now. If you hand him over to us, we might be persuaded to let you and the other one go. What do you say?"

"Never," William growled, "You will never lay so much of a finger on my son."

"So be it," the demon said, "Either way, we will have him. After all, you can't stay here forever. We both know that you are low on food." The creature smiled as its teeth became sharper and more dangerous. "You can starve for all I care, but that child will be ours."

It was William's turn to smile. "If the child is born at all," he said. It hurt him to say those words, but he knew it was a dangerous game he was playing. Thankfully, the demon acted accordingly.

"What do you mean?" it asked.

William's smile grew darker as he took a single step forward. "We won't starve," he said, "We will get hungry, weak, and irrational, but we won't starve. It's impossible for us to die that way. However, I don't know about the baby. He's growing, and his mother goes without food, he'll go without food. If she doesn't get enough to eat, who knows what might happen. You might have been sitting here waiting all this time for a child that might not even be born."

The demon stared at William for several minute before retreating. He could hear it talking to the other demons, but he didn't strain to hear its words. Instead, he called Beau as he headed back towards the church. His body was growing steadily weaker as he moved, but he hoped he had done enough to save Grell and their son.

 

((X))

 

The world had grown silent, and Emily was relieved. The voices, the constant buzz, had finally stopped, and her mind felt lighter and more at ease. She wasn't sure what happened, but a part of her simply knew that there were better times around the corner. Things were finally about to change.

Lying down on the short sofa in William's office, she closed her eyes to rest. Perhaps Ronald would visit her in her dreams. He was talking to her more now, but he had changed as well. He seemed so full of hope and life when he spoke. "Ronnie," she mumbled as she started to drift off to sleep.

Suddenly, she felt hands upon her arms. Her eyes flew open as she looked up as the figure standing over her. A distant part of her mind recognized this as Pops, but she had no idea if he could be trusted. He might have been sent by Collins. She opened her mouth to scream as she struggled to get off the couch, but Pops put his hand over her mouth as he attempted to restrain her.

"Trust him."

Emily looked over at William's desk, and tears came to her eyes when she saw Ronald sitting there calmly. He was smiling in his usual carefree manner as he locked eyes with her. "Trust him," he repeated, "Pops is a friend, and he's here to help you. Trust him, and go with him."

She nodded and stopped struggling as she looked up at Pops. Slowly, he took the hand away from her mouth.

"Don't scream," he whispered, "I've come to get you out of here. Do you trust me?"

She glanced over where Ronald had been sitting but saw that he had disappeared once again. Her heart pounded painfully, as she looked up once again at Pops. "Yes," she answered carefully.

Pops smiled as he stood up. He created a portal there in William's office, and then held out his hand to her. "Come on," he said, "Let me take you somewhere safe."

She placed her hand in his and allowed him to guide her through the portal. When her eyes adjusted, she found herself in a dimly lit room, but she wasn't alone. Along with Pops, she saw the forensic scientist with fluffy hair working with someone lying on a cot. (She could never remember his name.) Nearby, she recognized William's secretary Miss Fletcher who quickly approached them.

"Thank you," Miss Fletcher said to Pops before she turned her attention to Emily. "You're safe now," she said, "among friends.

"Miss Fletcher," the scientist called, "we need you here!"

"Excuse me," she said before turning to run back to the figure lying on the cot. Whoever it was had been hurt badly as Emily could see blood dripping to the floor.

"I have to be going," Pops said, "I need to see if anything has changed. I'll check on all of you later." He nodded slightly and cast his eyes on Emily briefly before creating a portal and leaving.

Once he was gone, Emily walked slowly about the room. A series of monitors had been set up and saw that they had almost all of Dispatch covered - even the office where she had been sitting. Had they been watching her all this time? While she was still struggling with all this information, there was the soft flutter of wings. Turning, she saw a familiar pigeon fly towards her to land on the desk. Her heart thudded when she recognized it as William's pigeons.

They were working with him! That monster that had taken her Ronald away from her! It didn't make any sense that Ronald would want her to come here and be with these people...

....unless he wanted her to be in position to get revenge for him.

Struggling to keep her face calm and serene, she walked over to where Miss Fletcher and the scientist (Othello! His name was Othello!) were working on the injured man. "Can I help?" she asked in her sweetest tone.

 

((X))

 

Grell was washing dishes when Beau started barking wildly outside. William sat tiredly in a chair and only looked up with bleary eyes as she rushed outside to see what had upset the dog. The demons were there. They were always there, but there was something peculiar lying on the grass. Apparently the demons had tossed something onto the ground they couldn't stand, and she approached it slowly. "What is this?" she asked aloud as she moved closer.

It appeared to be several large crates filled with food products. Everything looked and smelled normally, but she frowned as she gazed at it. Turning, she faced the demons. "Is this some sort of trick?" she demanded, "Do you think we'll eat this food? You probably poisoned it."

"It's no trick," William said as he approached. She hadn't even known he had followed her "Nor is it poisoned." With a grunt, he reached down and picked up one of the crates. "Help me carry these in," he said.

"But Will!" she cried, but he was already walking away. Throwing the demons an angry look, she picked up another one of the crates and followed him. Once inside the church, she confronted her husband. "What's this all about?" she asked, "You can't really be thinking of eating this stuff."

"We are going to eat it," he said calmly, "You need your food."

"But they probably did something to it!" she cried.

"No, they didn't," he answered, before sighing loudly, "I talked to the demons earlier," he admitted.

She searched his face carefully, although she knew he only spoke the truth to her. "And?"

"And I asked them to let you go," he said, "I told them I'd give anything to keep you and Oliver safe."

 Grell set down the crate and walked over to William. Putting her arms around him, she buried her face against his chest. Within her, the child stirred as if he knew he was closer to his father. "Darling," she mumbled, "would you really make another deal with a demon for me? You've already put yourself in enough danger."

"I would do anything for you," he said, "but the demon wouldn't accept my offer. It said they were after something else." He lifted her chin so that he could look into her eyes. "We both know what they really want," he said.

"Oliver," Grell said quietly.

William nodded. "However, when I told them that for Oliver to be born, his mother needed to eat properly."

Grell gasped. "They brought us food because they want our son to be born so they can take him!" she exclaimed.

"That's how it appears," he said, "but the most important thing is that we now have food." He pulled her closer as he stroked her hair. "We'll never let them take our son."

She smiled at him. "Soon," she said, "this will be just a memory. I know it." Leaning up on her tiptoes she kissed William deeply, but there was still fear in heart. Her husband had made a contract with a demon, and the other demons were determined to steal her son from her. Somehow, she had to save her family.


	30. Chapter 30

Autumn had put on her brightest and most brilliant robes this year. William sat quietly as he allowed his eyes to dance upon the landscape. A cool wind slipped through the trees, coaxing a few more leaves to let go of their branches and dance with the wind. It was so picturesque and peaceful, minus the demons, and a part of William just wanted to relax and enjoy this brief moment of domestic bliss, but he knew he couldn't let his guard down. He was growing more tired with each passing day - especially since he had used some unknown power to save that young reaper from the demons.

"Darling?" Grell asked as she struggled to sit down next to him. Her pregnancy was growing more obvious with each passing day. She often grumbled that her body was 'destroyed,' but he thought she looked beautiful, "Are you okay?"

"Just tired," he said.

"It's getting worse?"

He nodded. "Using that...power the demon has given me only makes it worse," he said, "I'm glad that I was able to hold back the demons, but I don't ever want to use it again. It's wrong."

Grell looked; her face unreadable as she chewed on her lower lip. "I don't think that power is from the demon," she finally said.

"Where else could it come from?" he asked, "I don't have any sort of special abilities."

"That's where you're wrong," she said, as she leaned over to lean her head on his shoulder, "You've always had some sort of special power. I saw it in your eyes."

He frowned slightly. "What are you talking about?"

She snuggled closer. "I saw it in your eyes back in the academy," she said, "when you stood up to me. There was this light that was shining from your eyes that was unlike anything I've ever seen. I knew from that moment you had a special power all your own."

He reached over to push back a few strands of her hand from her face. "Do you really think so?" he whispered.

"I do."

She closed her eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. He wanted to believe what she had said - that the power had truly come from somewhere inside of him, but he didn't know. It was hard for him to believe there was anything special or unusual about himself.

 

((x))

 

Collins wanted to curse his awful luck and every hindrance to his fate. He had been so close to fulfilling his destiny, but now his kingdom was crumbling and slipping through his grasp. Spears still lived, and somehow he had managed to interfere with the signal for the chips. While Collins had scientists working on the issue, there were already whispers of treason slipping through the hallways. So many fools wanted to deny his true identity, and he knew that he would have to become much stricter very soon. Others would have to die for the rest to see his glory.

He walked through the woods, running his hands over the rough bark, as he neared his destination. He could hear the dark laughter, but he didn't flinch or slow. It wouldn't have been fitting.

"What are you doing here?" asked a low voice.

"I thought perhaps I could offer an incentive," Collins replied, "I want Spears dead. I would have thought an army of demons could have done that by now."

The demons stepped out of the shadows and laughed. "You forget," it hissed, "We have our own agenda here. We don't work for you. What we do is of none of your concern."

"But what if I could offer you something to...speed up the job?"

There was another laugh. "What can you offer? We have all the souls we want, and we will soon have what we desire here. What can you give us? You don't even have a soul that you can offer. Yours was promised away.

Collins felt the color drain from his face. "Who..." he began.

"Your mark may not be visible," interrupted the demon, "but I can see it all the same." Collins took a step backwards from the smirking. "Run on back to your make believe kingdom before it falls apart," it added, "Enjoy it while you can."

"You will pay one day," Collins growled before creating a portal. He glared at the demon before returning to his own realm.

"No one will get my soul," he whispered, "No one can ever touch me." As he spoke, there was a loud explosion as if a contradiction to his words.

 

((x))

 

Their hidden chambers shook slightly, and Miss Fletcher glanced about anxiously. "What was that?" she asked.

Othello hurried to the monitors and quickly began to turn dials as he searched for the source. "There was an explosion," he explained, "down in scythe production. From what I can tell, it could have been caused by some sort of mechanical malfunction."

"Could it had been sabotage or some sort of protest?" asked Miss Fletcher.

"I can't tell," Othello said, "but I don't see anyone in the area. It's impossible to safe for certain though."

Before he could say anything else, a soft moan interrupted them. Emily jumped back in surprise because she had almost given up on the young reaper she had been helping to treat. His face and body was still torn badly, but he seemed to be regaining consciousness.

"Perkins," Miss Fletcher said, "Are you all right?"

There was another moan, and Othello rushed over to the bedside just as Perkins managed to open one of his eyes. The other still appeared to be swollen shut. "Where...where...am I?" he managed to ask.

"Don't try to talk," Miss Fletcher said.

"You were attacked by demons," Othello explained, "but Pops brought you here. You're going to be fine now."

Perkins took in a shaky breath. "I...remember now," he said, "Spears saved me with...some sort of light."

"Light?" Miss Fletcher asked, but Perkins had seemingly already fallen asleep. His breathing was steady and regular, but he wasn't able to answer any more questions.

"I'm not sure if he knew what he was saying," Othello said, "It looks like he's going to be okay, but he still has a bit of a fever." He sighed loudly. "At least I think he's over the worst of it now. We treated the venom in time."

"Thank goodness," Miss Fletcher said, before yawning loudly.

Othello laughed. "You've been up too long," he said, "Why don't you get some rest? I just need to check on the monitors, and then I'll keep an eye on Perkins."

"Do you think that will be okay?" Miss Fletcher asked.

"I'll help," Emily said quickly, "I can keep an eye on Perkins. I'm not tired, and I can come and get you if he looks like he's getting worse."

"Do you feel up to it?" Othello asked, and Emily nodded.

Miss Fletcher yawned again. "Thank you," she said, "I do need to get some sleep, but don't try to sit up too long. We need to keep our energy up, because we don't know what's going to happen. Might be a war soon." With those tired words, she drudged off to the far corner where she curled up on a cot. Within minutes, she was asleep.

"Thank you," reiterated Othello, "I'll be right over here if you need more. I'm so glad we were able to rescue you." He touched her shoulder in a friendly manner before walking over to the monitors.

Left alone, the smile slipped from Emily's face as she looked about at the various medical tools strewn about. There were knives and various sharp objects that could end this reaper's life in an instant, and he deserved death. While she didn't know everything, she had gathered he had been injured trying to get supplies to Spears and Sutcliff. He deserved to die. Keeping one eye on Othello, she moved closer to a scalpel. It would be the perfect tool. Her fingers closed over the cool metal, and she was just about to lift the weapon, when Perkins moved slightly and opened his eye once more.

"Uh, hello," she managed; more than a bit startled.

He blinked his eye nearsightedly. "Who...are you?" he asked.

"Emily," she replied, "You're Perkins, right? Can I ask you something? Why were you taking supplies to Spears and Sutcliff?" It seemed like an odd question, but she couldn't understand why anyone would have to bring them anything. Both should be capable. Perhaps they were vulnerable somehow, and she might be able to take advantage of that.

"They were...out of food," he answered, "Demons were laughing about it." He took another long breath and closed his eye. "They needed food," he reiterated, "Es...especially with Sutcliff pregnant."

"Sutcliff is what?" Emily hissed before quickly looking to make sure that Miss Fletcher and Othello weren't listening. "How is that possible?"

Perkins was only able to mumble something incoherent before drifting asleep once more.

Emily took several deep breaths to calm herself. Perkins may not know what he was saying - like Othello suggested. After all, it should be impossible for Sutcliff to get pregnant or carry a child, but a part of her knew that it was truth. Somehow that freak had managed to have gotten pregnant. Emily should have had the chance to carry a child - to carry Ronald's child, but Spears and Sutcliff had stolen that away from her. With a dark smile, she moved away from the scalpel and said down quietly. She would let Perkins live. She would let them all live.

Except Sutcliff's child.

 

((x))

 

_The garden was dead now, but William didn't take time to look at the gnarled vines or rotten flowers as he walked. Martin wasn't waiting for him at the table, although William hadn't been expecting him to be. This time, William wasn't content on just meeting the demon in this garden of the past, but he was hoping to meet the demon on its own ground. He wanted to see where the demon hid when he wasn't lurking in the garden. There had to be some place where he entered and exited this place._

_Time passed as William walked slowly and examined his surroundings thoroughly. It wasn't until his third trip around the perimeter that he really noticed the odd clump of ivy growing thick upon the rock wall. Moving carefully, he pushed aside the ivy to reveal a large crack in the wall. The air emitting from the space was hot, dry, and putrid, but he took a single step inside..._

 

"Ow!" William cried as he jumped backward and fell hard onto the floor. His foot still burned and ached from where he had stepped into the fireplace, but at least it had been mostly ashes instead of a raging fire.

"Will," Grell said, as she sat up in bed, "What's wrong?"

"It's nothing," he replied, "I just burnt my foot. Go on back to sleep."

"How did you burn your foot?" she asked, as she got up and swept over to his side, "Were you sleepwalking?"

"In a way," he said, "I was trying to figure out where the demon lived."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, the demon always seems to meet me in this...garden. It's all in my mind, but we know he has his physical body hidden. I thought that maybe I could try to find it the same way I find him when we talk." William paused. "I know how foolish that sounds."

She smiled as she petted William's head. "It doesn't sound foolish," she said, "You're just trying to do anything that you can."

Moving into a kneeling position, he pulled her closer so that his head was against her abdomen. "We're running out of time," he whispered, "and I have to find a way to save you."

"You will," she said, "You will find a way to save all of us." As she spoke, the child moved slightly. "Even Ollie knows," she added.

"I wish I had the same faith in myself that you have in me," he said.

Reaching down, she helped him to his feet and gently touched his face. "You just need to see yourself through my eyes, love," she said, "Then you would see just how amazing you are."

He smiled as he kissed her. "This time with you is worth everything to me," he said, "Let's go back to bed. You need your rest."

"Of course," she said, "As long as my husband comes with me."

He laughed as he they linked arms and returned to bed. There they lay face to face as Grell slipped back into a sleeping slumber. William watched as she slept; softly touching his face before putting his hands over his son. He hadn't been lying. They were running out of time, but he still had no idea how he was going to protect his family.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay with this chapter.

The air had grown cold and biting; the threat of snow dancing on the breeze like invisible flakes. Grell stood in the doorway, a thin coat wrapped around her as she stared out into the distance. The landscape had changed greatly over the months, but the demonic present had become their constant companion. It was impossible not to look out and see them watching and waiting. There were times that she was just so tired of them being here. She wanted to summon her scythe and thin their numbers just a bit, but she knew that William would panic. As her due date grew closer, he became more and more protective - often worrying about her doing simple things like cooking and cleaning. It was sweet that he cared so much, but Grell also felt a bit constrained. Over the last few months, she had grown complacent in her role as wife and soon to be mother. She did love taking care of William and the house, but her darker side was growing restless. She wanted excitement and danger. She wanted death. Those demons outside might provide the perfect relief, but still she hesitated. There was no reason to cause William to worry any more.

With a sigh, she turned and looked at William sitting near the fireplace. The ancient were spread around him carelessly as his tired, bloodshot eyes scanned the text again and again. She walked over and placed her hand on his head. "Darling," she said, "Why don't you try to rest?"

"I can't," he replied, "I know the answer is here. It has to be. I'm just overlooking it."

"What if there isn't an 'answer?'" she asked.

"There has to be!" he shouted, as he jumped to his feet, "I refuse to give up. If this demon can enter my head and can get into my dreams, then there has to be some way I can do the same to it. If I can, then I can find its physical body and end it." He paced a bit; his eyes growing wild as his uncombed hair stuck up about his head. "I hate demons," he growled, "They are nothing but parasites." He stopped in front of Grell and grabbed her arms so tightly that it hurt. "It used me to get to you," he said, "and it's not going to stop until we stop it. I have to find a way to save both of us."

"And Ollie," Grell added protectively. As she spoke, the baby moved within her and she jumped. "He's moving!" she exclaimed, and she grabbed William's hand to place it on her abdomen. "Our son believes in you too," she said.

Tears almost came to William's eyes as he felt the baby move. "I promise you," he said, "I won't let the demon hurt either one of you."

"I know you won't," Grell said, and she moved to hold William tightly.

 

((x))

 

Emily watched as Perkins opened his eyes slowly and looked around the room. "I guess I didn't dream all this," he mumbled, "Everything...really happened."

"It depends on what you mean by everything," Emily answered, "If you mean about us hiding in some room while an insane reaper tries to take over, then yes. It all really happened."

Perkins took several deep breaths. "It's hard to even imagine how things were before all this," he admitted, "It feels like a lifetime ago. I can only barely remember being just a typical reaper collecting souls. It's like...that happened to someone else, and I only got to watch it all from a distance or I just heard about it."

"I know what you mean," Emily said, "I was someone else before, but I'm not sure I remember who that girl was."

Perkins glanced over at Othello and Miss Fletcher briefly. "I'm really sorry," he whispered.

"Sorry for what?"

He looked back at Emily. "For what happened...to Ronald," he said, "I remember seeing you at the funeral. It was so clear your heart was broken, and that's what Collins used against you. He saw you were hurt, and he only used that to hurt you more and to turn you against his enemies."

Tears filled Emily's eyes. "You don't understand," she said, "They are still..." Her voice trailed off as she buried her face in her hands.

"How are we doing over here?" Othello asked, as he walked over, "It looks like you're healing, from what we can tell. Of course, I'm not really a doctor. Just a brilliant scientist." He laughed at his own joke, as Miss Fletcher walked up behind him.

"I'm still alive, thanks to you," Perkins said, "I'm just tired." His eyes glanced over at Emily, who had turned away. "I think we all are."

"That's true," Miss Fletcher agreed, "but things might be turning around. We've been keeping an eye on Collins, and he's starting to panic. Other reapers are starting to turn against him now."

"Really?" Emily asked, turning around. The tears will still drying on her cheeks, but her eyes were sparkling at the news. "Could it really be almost over."

"Maybe," Othello said, "We disabled the chips so everyone can think for themselves now, and it's clear that our realm is in ruins. Collins has done nothing but nearly destroy us, and his supporters are dwindling. Who knows, we might be able to come out of hiding in a week."

Othello continued to talk about what might be their bright future, but Emily didn't really want to listen. She wandered to the far side of the room as if suddenly examining the blank, gray wall. She didn't like or trust Collins. He had to go, but her hate didn't end their. What she hadn't been able to say to Perkins was that Sutcliff and Spears were still her enemies.

And she intended to make them suffer.

 

((x))

 

Grell awoke from a dream that faded from her memory as soon as her eyes opened and looked over to see that William's side of the bed was empty. Yawning loudly, she sat up and saw him pacing in front of the fireplace. His body was highlighted by the dancing, flickering flames as he walked; casting fearsome shadows across the room. "Will?" she asked, "What are you doing? Come back to bed."

He turned to her; a cold, cruel smile painted on his face as his eyes caught the light from the fireplace. "Did you miss me, little reaper?" he asked.

All drowsiness fled from her mind as she jumped from the bed. "You're not William," she said.

The demon laughed darkly. "I could have fooled you again had I wanted," it said, "Had some more fun with you." He reached out to touch her hair, but she swatted his hand roughly away. "Your little William is gone. He went looking for me and he can't find his way back. Now it's only you and me...and the child. You know, if you were just to promise the baby to me, I'll give you back William and put an end to our little contract. That way, you and Will can be together."

"Do you really think I'm that stupid?" she asked, "You're not getting Ollie or William. Understand? We're going to fight you with all we have."

The demon laughed again before launching forward to pin Grell against the wall. "Do you really think you can stop me?" it asked, "I can have all of you. In fact, I could have you now." A tongue, twisted and deformed slipped from its mouth like a snake as it moved forward.

Grell quickly brought her knee up to make direct contact with its crotch. The demon didn't seemed to be accustomed to having such weaknesses as its eyes crossed and it stumbled back slightly. Seeing her opportunity, Grell swung her fist with all her might; slamming into its jaw; hurling the demon halfway across the room until it lay crumpled before the fire.

"Get out of here!" she yelled, as she ran forward and grabbed it by the shoulder, "Get out of here and give me back my husband!"

"Grell?" asked William in a startled voice, "What are you doing?"

This was no trick, and Grell dropped to her knees to hug William. "Darling, you've returned to me!" she said.

"Returned? What's going on?" He rubbed his jaw. "And why does it feel like I've been hit by a train."

She laughed. "I'm sorry, dear," she said, "but I had to stop that demon."

"Demon?"

She sat back on her heels. "The demon was here," she explained, "In your body. It was telling me how you were lost and asked for Ollie. When I told it no, it pinned me against the wall and tried to have it's way with me." She laughed lightly. "It underestimated me," she said, "I might be pregnant, but I'm still as strong as ever." Touching his face, she looked him in the eyes. "And how are you?" she asked.

"I'm okay," he said, "The demon was right in a way. I was gone, but not for good. I was looking for it." A tired smile came to his face. "But I think this means that I have it scared," he said, "It knows I'm getting close and that I can stop it, so it was trying to scare you."

"Good thing I don't scare easily," Grell said.

"Yes," he agreed, "It's a good thing. I always knew you were strong, but there are times you still amaze me. Here you are - pregnant and fighting demons with your bare hands. What are you going to do next?"

She smiled. "We'll just have to wait and see," she said.

 

((x))

 

Collins took a long drink of coffee; the hot liquid slipping down his throat, but he choked it down with resolve. The cup empty, he turned and hurled the cup against the door of the office. It shattered with a satisfying sound, and he just let the broken pieces fall to the floor. A young reaper knocked quietly before opening the door and peeking inside. Like so many others, Collins neither knew or cared about his name.

"Is everything okay, sir?"

"No," Collins asked, "Everything is not okay. In fact, everything is very wrong. Send someone in here to clean up this mess."

"Yes, sir." He started to close the door to leave.

"Wait!" Collins said, "Do you know what's happening out there?"

"Out there, sir? What do you mean?"

"With the other reapers - my reapers?" Collins clarified, "What are they doing? What are they saying?"

The young reaper's face fell. "Well, sir, it's not good," he said, "People are...upset. They say you used them and they aren't happy. I think they are siding with Spears."

Collins cursed loudly. "Of course it had to be Spears," he said, "He's been a thorn in my side since he graduated the academy. Everyone always thinks he's so special, but he's just ruining all my plans." He picked up his nameplate and ran his hands over it. "It should be all about me and my vision now. Put out this notice to all reapers. Anyone who brings in Spears can have anything -ANYTHING they desire. Also, anyone found conspiring to keep him safe or to help him in any way will be put to death. Is that clear?"

"Yes sir. I'll do it right away."

He shut the door, and Collins quickly crossed the room to lock it.

His plans - his very being was no longer safe.

 

((x))

 

Beau's barking pierced the night arousing Grell from her slumber. As she sat up and looked over, she suddenly realized it was becoming a common occurrence to wake up to find William's side of the bed empty. "Darling?" she asked, as she looked around, but her heart fell when she saw the door was open.

The demons were laughing in the distance.

"William!" she screamed, as she jumped from bed. Her bare feet raced across the floor as she raced outside. The night air was bitter, and her breath rose around her in a frosty cloud as she ran. Beau was standing just ahead - his black fur raised as he barked at the demons. Even in the moonlight, she could see their smiles and the hunger in their eyes. Their claws were raised as if welcoming William, who was walking steadily to them.

"Stop!" she cried, but she knew that she would never reach him in time. Throwing back her arm, her scythe materialized in her hand, and she leapt into the air. Even quite pregnant, she had not lost none of her agility. Her crimson hair streamed behind her, and a smile came to her lips. This was what she had been missing all along. She loved William and their child with all her heart, but she could ever deny her restless, bloodthirsty side.

William crossed the line and the demon descended upon him, but Grell jumped in the midst before they could much more than scratch him and tear at his clothes. "Hands off my man!" she declared, as she brought her chainsaw forward so it could do the talking for her. It made solid contact with one demon, and it's thick blood splattered onto her like a foul yet intoxicating perfume. She shoved William back unto the sacred ground so that he'd be safe while she remained in the center of danger.

"We can't kill that one," said one demon, "We must keep the carrier of the child safe for now."

"Darling, I'd be more worried about my own safety, if I were you," she said, as she swung around; chopping off another's arm. She laughed loudly.

"Grell?" William asked, "What's going on?"

Worried William would try to follow, she jumped back to safety. One demon tried to grab her, but he only managed to scratch her arm. Her own blood trickled down her arm, but she hardly paid any attention as she knelt by her fallen husband. "It's okay, dear," she said.

"What were you trying to do?" he asked, "What were you doing out there? What am I doing out here?"

She laughed, "Let me explain," she said, but a sudden pain ripped through her lower body. Her words were lost in a moan, as she felt herself falling forward. William caught her before she hit the ground.

"What's wrong?" he asked, "Did the demons hurt you?"

"No," she gasped, "It's Ollie." She cried out again as she grabbed her abdomen.

Before either of them could say anything else, a brilliant ball of light erupted and the demons started to rush forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter to go!


	32. Chapter 32

Despite her pain, Grell summoned her scythe and struggled to her feet as the demons rushed towards them. She wasn't going down without a fight as William and Beau stood by her side. Her family - her growing family was the most important things to her now. Just as she was about to strike, she heard Pops yelling out to them.

"Come on!" he yelled, "I can't keep this portal open too long."

William grabbed her arm and practically shoved her through the portal, as Beau followed close behind. She watched as the demons rushed forward, but then the portal closed just as they were about to jump through. Blinking her eyes a few times, she looked about the dim room that so different than the church. "Where are we?" she asked, as another pain tore through her body. She grabbed her stomach as her legs gave out - her voice lost in a moan.

"You're safe," Lawrence answered, "in a secret room back in our realm." He motioned to Othello and Miss Fletcher. "Let's get you in a bed." She felt hands under her arms as she was picked up from the floor. The pain made it hard to focus, but she looked at William. His back was to her, and she started to reach her arm to him, but he suddenly created his own portal. He was leaving her.

"What are you doing?" Lawrence cried, "We have to take care of your wife now."

William looked over his shoulder. "I have to stop this demon," he said, "or both of our souls and even our child is in danger."

"But..." Grell's voice was weak, "we don't know where this demon is."

He gave her a small smile. "I figured it out," he said, "I saw all the clues, but I didn't figure it out until now. The demon's hiding his real body in Hell. I have to go there and stop this." He turned to face the portal once more and took his first step forward.

Lawrence glanced at Grell before running after William. "Take care of her, Othello," he said, "but don't deliver the baby. Not yet. Wait if you can." He disappeared into the portal one step behind William, and the portal closed silently behind them.

Othello and Miss Fletcher helped Grell to lie down on the bed as they covered her with a thin sheet. "What do we do now?" Miss Fletcher asked.

"Wait," Grell said, but her voice sounded faint in her own ears. It was odd how fast her energy had drained in just a few short minutes. "We wait," she reiterated, "Will always keeps his word. He'll be back, and we'll all be safe."

Othello nodded. "We'll wait as long as we can," he said, "but let's hope they hurry." Without another word, he started connecting Grell to the different medical devices as their wait began.

 

((x))

 

Throughout his life, William had imagined Hell to be this burning pit. It was what he had always been taught, and there had never been any reason for him to change his point of view. The few times he had actual contact with one of the foul beasts, he had no real reason to ask any details about their home. He simply kept his archaic idea that Hell was all fire and brimstone. It smelled like burning sulfur, but there was no actually flames from where William stood. It was a clay path that seemed to lead through a series of caverns and tunnels. It was warm and stuffy, but not particularly hot. So far, he hadn't seen any demons or other demonic creatures.

"I hadn't thought Hell would be like this," Lawrence said; echoing his thoughts, "So, how are we going to find this demon?"

William looked over his shoulder and scowled. "That's not really your concern," he said, "This is my fight. I have no idea why you even choose to follow."

"I came to help," Lawrence said.

"You've helped enough!" William snapped. Turning he started to march down on of the clay paths. "Besides," he added, "I can't watch out for you. I can't protect you."

"I...I wanted to protect you," Lawrence said in a quiet tone. He opened his mouth again as if to say more, but the he closed it quickly as he fell into step behind William. For several minutes, they walked in silence, but soon the scent of demons soon began to overtake the area. "There are demons watching us," Lawrence finally said.

William looked up towards some of the higher caves. "There are harder for me to sense now," he said, "although, I assumed that would be the case. They are hanging back for now because they have no interest in helping one of their own, but they will take advantage of the situation if we are weakened in any way."

Lawrence nodded. "Demons only look out for themselves," he said.

"Just like some reapers," William mumbled.

Without another word, they continued down the path until they reached the entrance of a small cave. Shadows hung in the corners, but a single demon sat against the fall wall. It was a small, almost childlike creature with leathery gray skin. Despite it's small size, it smiled broadly; revealing jagged, yellow teeth as it motioned with one claw.

"I've been expecting you," it hissed.

 

 ((x))

 

Grell grunted as tears filled her eyes. "Is William back yet?" she asked.

Othello hovered helplessly over her as he his nervous eyes scanned the equipment and looked over the monitors. "Not yet," he said in a distracted tone, "Miss Fletcher, help me to get Grell into a gown. We need to have her abdomen exposed. I'm going to be started the caesarean soon."

"No!" Grell cried. Struggling into a sitting position, she grabbed Othello's tie and jerked the scientist close. "We have to wait for Will."

"I don't know if we can," Othello said, "I mean, this baby wants to be born now, and it's dangerous to wait." He removed Grell's hands from his tie and took a step back. "I'm thinking about your safety and the baby."

"You don't understand!" Grell insisted, "If the baby is born before Will can kill the demon...ah!" She doubled over in pain, and Othello knew that the time had come.

"We have to get started," he said, "We don't have time for a gown. Just get her abdomen exposed."

Miss Fletcher struggled with Grell's clothing. Apparently Grell's strength had faded until she could only weakly protest as she regarded them from half closed eyes.

"Stay with us," Othello said, "I know what I'm doing. I've read up on this, and you're going to be fine."

"What was she talking about?" Miss Fletcher asked, "About the demon and Will killing it?"

"I think she just wants William to be with her now," Othello answered, "but we can't wait. Look at her eyes. If we don't move now..." His voice trailed off, and Miss Fletcher only nodded. Glancing over, he saw Emily standing in the far corner watching - her face strangely vacant as her eyes were fixed upon Grell. "We need some help over here!" he yelled.

She blinked several times as if waking from a dream. "Of course," she finally said, but her steps were slow as she crossed the room.

 

((x))

 

William summoned his scythe as he approached the demon. "This ends here," he said, "I'll kill you, and you'll have no claim over me or Grell - or our child!"

The demon laughed as it stood up. "You think you're so clever," it said, "but you are a fool. Coming here does save your soul for the moment. I can't take it while you're in Hell, but remember our deal. If I cannot have your soul, I will take your precious Grell." He breathed deeply. "She's dying right now, you know. That baby is being born right now, and I can already taste a reaper's soul upon my tongue. You're too late." It laughed again.

"Never!" screamed William. He lunged forward, but the demon held up his hands to shoot forth some sort of energy. William felt it tear into his skin, but he knew that he wouldn't be deterred. Despite the pain, he continued to rush the demon, who looked more than mildly surprised as it launched a second attack. Energy enveloped William's body, but it wasn't the dark, cold blasts from the demon. This was warm and full of light. He knew that he was changing somehow, and he could see a blue glow slowly envelop his body. It had happened before when he had fought against the demons, but the feeling was stronger now. Glancing down, he saw that he was wearing blue and gold armor that seemed to meld to his body. His scythe even began to glow with the same light, and William could feel a new energy rushing through his body.

"It's...really you!" the demon gasped, and it tried to run, but William was too fast.

Moving with a fluid grace, he leaped forward and brought forth his scythe. The demon was sliced cleanly in two; black putrid smoke and blood spewing from it's bisected form. "How..." it gasped.

"How? Because I love Grell," William said.

The demons on the walls began to stir, but the feeling of fear hung in the air like thick, suffocating smoke. "We should get out of here," Lawrence said, "Grell will need you now."

William regarded him with anger. "There's one thing I need to do first," he said, but he created a portal for both of them to escape. The demons didn't even try and stop them. William didn't understand the reason for their behavior, but this was not time to question.

 

((x))

 

Grell knew she was dying. She had collected enough souls to feel hers slipping away. Faintly, she could hear a baby's cry, and she knew that it was Oliver. She tried to raise her arms to reach for the baby, but her body wasn't responding. "Ollie," she whispered.

"Just rest," Othello said quietly.

"No," she moaned, but as she spoke, she felt her strength slowly returning to her. It was as if her life was slowly returning, and she knew that William was successful.

Or the demon had taken his soul instead.

Refusing to accept that possibility, she sat up and reached out again. "Just let me hold him for a minute," she said, "Please."

There was a gentle smile from Othello as he nodded towards Miss Fletcher, who was holding the child. Carefully, she laid the baby in Grell's arms. "He's beautiful," Miss Fletcher said.

"He's perfect," Grell replied, as she looked down on her son. He was like a tiny, porcelain doll with perfect features. A soft fuzz of strawberry blonde hair adorned his pink head as he yawned. "Hello, little Ollie. I'm your mommy."

Oliver yawned again. "You should both get your rest," Othello said, "You want to look your best when William gets here."

"And he'll be here soon," Grell said, as she laid back, "I knew he would make it." With a happy smile, she closed her eyes and drifted into a light sleep.

 

((x))

 

William's portal led Lawrence and himself straight into Collins' office. Collins jumped to his feet and shouted for help, but Lawrence shut the door; leaving Collins to face a very angry, very powerful William. The blue light crackled around William's body - highlighting his arm and causing his scythe to glow. Collins backed against the far wall as his breathing increased. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, "You should be dead!"

William took a few more steps. "I've been in that demon's mind," he said, "Just like it was in mine, and I saw its memories. You made a contract with it." His hand jerked forward and he ripped off Collin's jacket and shirt. The contract seal was clearly visible on his shoulder, but Collins didn't make any more to cover it.

"I had to," Collins hissed, "I knew that I was the one who should rule our realm, but no one would listen."

"You made a deal that the demon could torture Grell and me," William growled, "just for your own ambitions." He pointed his scythe at Collins. "I don't want to rule anything, but you certainly aren't fit."

Collins summoned his own scythe as if to fight. "So, what do you want to do now?" he asked, "You know I can call in others to fight for me. Are you willing to kill more innocents just like you killed Knox?"

William shook his head. "I didn't kill Knox," he said, "You did. You made this contract with the demon, and it killed him. Now, it's time to pay for your crimes."

Collins gritted his teeth and jumped forward, but a portal quickly formed beneath his feet. He screamed in terror as demonic hands reached up for him, and he tried to fight, but it was too late. As William watched with little emotion, Collins was quickly dragged to Hell. The demons would have their way with him.

"It's hard to believe Collins would have actually made a contract," Anderson said, "I knew he was desperate, but I didn't know how desperate. He just couldn't understand that he wasn't New Death. You are. You were born to be. I...I knew that."

William turned towards him. "What are you talking about?" he asked, "How do you know, and what is all this New Death talk?"

Anderson sighed as tears came to his eyes. "I've wanted to tell you for so long," he whispered.

"Tell me what?"

"William, I...I'm your father."

"What?" William cried.

Anderson nodded. "I took my own many, many years ago when I lost my wife," he said, "I was trying to follow her, but I wound up here instead. I only hoped that one day, I'd be able to see her again, so I threw myself into work. I was in collections at first, and I collected many souls. I became empty inside...until I met one particular woman."

"My mother?" asked William.

"Yes," he said, "I was there to collect the soul of your brother when I met your mother. She reminded me so much of my own wife. Even after I had taken Martin's soul, I would go back to see her. Even after I was move to spectacles, I would return. One night, both of us lonely, we turned to each other in a physical way."

"I don't want to hear this," William said, "You're claiming that you're my father. This doesn't make sense. Reapers can't have children with living people."

"Normally they can't," Anderson said, "and I didn't even know your mother had gotten pregnant. Shortly after our night together, we swore never to see each other again. I returned here and threw myself into my work once more. I advanced to the head of my department. Finally, the day came that I was prepared to receive my redemption, but that's when I was told about you. I could have gone on, but now I knew I had a son...and there was so much more."

"What do you mean?"

Anderson stepped forward and put his hand on William's shoulder. "There's always been a legend about New Death. This realm was originally created to function in a particularly way, but it would have to grow. There needed to be someone who truly understand humanity and death - a child of both. The moment you were born, you were destined to be New Death. It's not a glamorous title, and you had no chance at a normal human life. Because I am your father, I cursed you with all this. That's why I stayed behind. I gave up my redemption so I could watch you, but I was forbidden from every revealing myself or telling you about your destiny until you were able to take charge."

William took in a deep breath. "I don't know hardly how to deal with this," he said, "I mean, I know I was connected to my father, but still. This is hard to accept."

"I understand," Anderson said, "but I do hope you give me a chance to be your father now. Please forgive me, son."

"I'll...I'll think about it," William said, "but for now, I want to go to Grell. We've wasted too much time here."

"Of course."

 

((x))

 

Emily quietly walked up to the Oliver's crib and looked over the sleeping baby. No one was watching her now. Finally, she had her chance for revenge. Clutching the scalpel in her hand, she raised her arm above her head. "Now, it's my turn," she whispered, and she brought her arm down.

 

((x))

 

A scream ripped through the tiny quarters; ripping Grell violently from her sleep. She sat up as Othello and Miss Fletcher ran across the room. Even Perkins sat up, but all they saw was Emily sitting on the floor and crying.

"What happened?" Grell asked.

"It's Ronnie," Emily cried.

"What?" Othello asked.

"The baby," Emily said, "It's Ronnie. I can see him. He's Ronnie. He's come back."

As she was wailing, William and Anderson walked into the room. "What's going on?" William asked.

"She says that the baby is Ronald," Othello answered, "but I don't think she's all that. She's been through a lot."

William ran across the room and looked into the crib. Oliver, his son, looked up at him as he lay in the tiny crib. "She's right," he said, "This is Ronald...but how?"

"You took Knox's soul when the demon killed him," Anderson said, "That soul must have went into the child."

"Oliver is Ronnie?" Grell asked.

"I always wondered why you picked the name Oliver," William said, "but now I remember. Knox's full name. Ronald Oliver Knox."

Tears came to Grell's eyes. "So Ronnie is still with us," she said, "He's a part of our family." She looked up at William. "Bring our son over here," she said.

With a smile, William gingerly lifted his son and carried over to Grell so they could hold him together. "This is what I've always dreamed of," he said.

"Me too," Grell agreed, "For far too long. We're parents, darling."

 

((x))

 

It didn't take long for their realm to return to order. Those that had followed Collins freely had been imprisoned, as reapers went back out into the fields to collect souls once more. Soon, there would be little evidence of the terror that Collins had brought here, but things had changed. Their realm would never be the same.

Nor had it ever been happier.

Dressed in his blue-gold armor of New Death, Grell had been crowned as New Life. Wearing a gorgeous red gown that flowed freely around her slim figure, she held Oliver in her arms as they stepped out of Dispatch together. There was a moment of quiet as all reapers turned to look at them, but then someone started to cheer. The stood apart to form a path, which the new family followed as they walked towards their thrones.

New Death, New Life, and their child.


End file.
